


The Wisp Sings

by clwriting (neganesque)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Attempted Suicide, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Longing, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-01-31 11:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neganesque/pseuds/clwriting
Summary: She’s tired of feeling hopeless. She’s tired of being in pain. She’s tired of feeling worthless. She’s tired, and she just wants him to love her.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Plus Size Reader, Dean Winchester/You, Sam Winchester/You (Platonic)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mentions of Attempted Suicide

The sound of an echoing crash woke you from a deep sleep. You barely had a moment to rub the fatigue from your eyes before your body shifted into defense mode. Flinging your plush blankets off of yourself and onto the floor, you grabbed the gun that resided in your bedside table. Making a beeline for the noise, the sounds of your bare feet against the concrete floor and your anxious breathing was all that could be heard. Once you reached the kitchen, where you traced the sound to, you pushed the door open and creeped in slowly with your gun raised. You let out an exasperated sigh when your eyes landed on Sam and Dean picking up multiple pans off of the floor. You lowered your gun and chuckled quietly, causing both brothers to look your way. 

“Who’s dying?” Sam asked you with a teasing smile, placing a pan carefully back onto the counter. 

“You two, apparently.” You answered with a roll of your eyes. “What the hell are you doing? I thought someone broke in with all the noise you’re making.” 

“Making breakfast, sweetheart.” Dean answered with a handsome smile. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion when he glanced up and down at you. “Nice shorts.” 

Your eyes widened in realization that you were still wearing your pajamas; which consisted of a plain white t shirt and blue sleep shorts that were exactly that, short. It wasn’t something you’d normally wear since you hated showing any skin, which is why it had been a sleeping outfit. An overwhelming blush rose to your cheeks as you subconsciously crossed your arms over your chest. You gave them one last wordless glance before turning around and leaving the kitchen, your dignity lying coldly on the floor. Once you had made it back to your room, you latched the door shut behind you and put your gun back into its rightful place. You sat on the edge of your bed, holding your head in your hands. Dean had surely been making fun of you, you thought. 

The torturous thought made your heart clench in despair, because you had acknowledged long ago that you were undoubtedly in love with Dean Winchester. You were a hunter just like the Winchester’s, and on a vamp case when you had met them. Much to your surprise, they asked for your help on both research and the actual hunt. The three of you instantly clicked into place, and they found themselves asking you to help them on more hunts. That led to you moving into the bunker with them, where you had lived for years. Sam had quickly become one of your best friends, almost like a brother to you; but Dean was different. 

It was impossible for you to list all of the things you loved about Dean Winchester. His green eyes that sparkled under the florescent lighting in the bunker, the smile that reached his ears and crinkled underneath his eyes, his protectiveness of the people he loved and cared for. The thing you had come to love the most about him was his strength. He had lived through so much terror and pain, and still got out of bed every morning with a strength and fury that you could only wish you had. There was many demons hiding inside your head and soul, and you often prayed that you were like Dean; that you could be strong and make it through. You were utterly in love with every part of him, but you had little hope that he would ever feel the same. 

Throughout your entire life, you had been bullied and cast aside due to your weight. You had been called fat, ugly, and worthless so many times that you truly believed it. Boys picked on you on the playground in elementary school, laughing as they pushed ‘the fat girl’ off of the swing set. Girls in middle school laughed when you would walk by, giggling into their hands and watching every move you made. High school had been the worst experience of your life. You didn’t have any friends, you simply made your way from class to class and did your work. The popular boys gagged when they saw you walk by, turning the opposite way. The cheerleaders scoffed and spat in your face when they saw you peek a glance at the flyer for tryouts. You spent every lunch period in the bathroom, staring blankly at the pale stall door and wondering when it would end. 

The constant bullying, combined with the monster that was your very own father, drove you into a deep depression. It was a cold February night in your junior year of high school when you found yourself standing on the edge of a bridge, your eyes locked on the freezing cold water beneath you. With a cinder block attached to your ankle, you glanced up at the heavens and apologized to your mother for your failure. Just as you were about to jump, you felt a hand rest gently upon your shoulder. A rough but soothing voice told you to rethink your decision, and reassured you that you still had much to live for. You had never figured out what it was that made you do it, but you didn’t jump. There was nobody there when you turned around, and with a defeated sigh, you detached the cinder block from your ankle and went home. 

It was a few days after you turned 18 when you found your father lying on the living room floor, adorned with scratch marks and missing his head. You didn’t bat an eye. You, however, were curious about what had killed him. It led you to the discovery of the supernatural, and with no real premise or purpose in your life, you became a hunter. It turned out to be the best decision you had ever made. Hunting was a dangerous job, but it gave you a sense of purpose. It kept your mind busy on your darkest days when all you wanted to do was turn the gun in your hand on yourself. The most rewarding feeling to you was that of saving someone in need, because you knew what it felt like to be alone and helpless. 

Pulling your head out of your hands, you lifted yourself off of your bed and moved to stand in front of your full body mirror. You wiggled your shorts off of your hips, down your legs, and tossed them to the side. With a purposeful intent, you began to examine your body in the mirror in front of you. Your skin held many scars, some of them from hunting, and the rest from your childhood. You always thought your five foot five inch stature only made you look chubbier. You had big hips, and large thighs that constantly ripped holes in your jeans. Your belly had too much fat for your liking, with stretch marks adorning the skin of both your belly and your round butt. Your breasts were both full and a tad heavy, and you always found yourself stinking of jealousy at the young waitresses with perky boobs at all the diners you’ve visited. Dean was a handsome man, and the longer you examined yourself, the more you were convinced that you didn’t stand a chance. 

Casting your deprecating thoughts aside, you removed the last of your pajamas and changed into ripped blue jeans and a black t shirt, your usual black boots to finish. You detangled and brushed your hair, deciding to maneuver it into a quick braid. Once you felt comfortable enough, and reassured yourself that you looked fine, you left the confines of your room and headed towards the war room. Upon arriving, you saw Sam sat on one side of the table, working on a plate of food while looking at something on his laptop. On the other side of the table was Dean, going to town on the bacon in front of him like it would disappear if he wasn’t careful. You giggled at the sight, taking note of the full plate of food on the table beside Dean. You took a deep breath and shoved your nerves aside, pulling out the chair next to Dean and planting yourself down. 

They had made you a plate filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage, a small glass of orange juice set right next to it. You smiled deeply, your heart warm and full from the small gesture. When you looked up, you noticed Dean watching you with a small smile. 

“Thanks for making me breakfast, guys.” You thanked them with another smile, watching as they both nodded happily. “What’s the occasion?” 

“What? Can’t I make a pretty girl breakfast every once in a while?” Dean retorted, a devious grin gracing his features. 

Within seconds, your confident facade was broken and you were devolved into a mess of red cheeks and tingles in your stomach. You were a grown woman, and it always amazed you how one look from Dean could turn you into a blubbering and drooling schoolgirl. Surely he was just poking fun? He didn’t really think you were pretty, right? You allowed yourself to answer with a small smile, before digging into the breakfast in front of you. Sparing a glance at Dean, you were relieved to see him once again enamored with his bacon. Feeling Sam’s eyes on you, you looked his way only to be met with a knowing smile. 

The three of you sat in a comfortable silence as you ate your breakfast. It was the moments like this that made you happy. You loved hunting, but you also reveled in the days where you and the people you loved could just be. Once everyone’s plates were cleaned, Dean stood up from his seat and stacked all three plates neatly on top of each other. You expected him to turn and head towards the kitchen to take care of the dishes. What you didn’t expect; was the soft and comforting kiss that he placed on your forehead, before making his way to the kitchen. 

You were left in your seat, your eyes wide with shock, and your mouth agape. Shifting slightly in your chair, you longingly watched Dean’s bow legged form as he left the room. Once you turned back around, you locked eyes with Sam, who was laughing quietly behind his hand. It was a joke, right? They had teamed together, planned to make a complete fool out of you for their own amusement? There was no seemingly possible way that Dean would do that on his own free will. With trembling hands and a deep breath, you made your way back to you room; where you could hide out until you were able to scrape your pride off of the floor, where it lay beside your dignity. 

Desperately needing to take your mind off of the object of your affections, you pulled your sketchbook from it’s hiding spot underneath your mattress. Tucking yourself into a comfortable position on your bed, you flipped open your sketchbook to your latest drawing. It was a simple sunflower, but you had been spending a little while each day perfecting the details. Drawing was one of your favorite pastimes, and it had helped you immensely through your childhood. Whenever you felt yourself slipping, you whipped out your sketchbook and drew the first thing that came to mind. It continued to help even into adulthood. Whenever your demons started to rise back up to the surface, you quickly found yourself ready with a pencil in hand. 

You spent about ten minutes working steadily on the petals of your sunflower, until it started to feel tedious. Huffing out an annoyed breath, you flipped your sketch pad over to a new page. With no real premise, you decided to draw whatever came to mind. It took you only a minute to realize that you had begun to draw the outline of Dean’s face. It was ironic to you that you had started drawing in an attempt to get Dean out of your head; instead, you ended up drawing the very man you were trying to avoid. With a soft smile, you continued to sketch the man you loved. You focused on his sharp jawline, the scruff that littered his cheeks, the slight bags under his eyes from years of anguish, and his emerald green eyes that could make you walk on hot lava if he asked you to. 

You were so entranced on the task before you, that your mind just barely registered the knock on your door. There was just enough time for you to lift up your mattress and shove your sketch pad underneath it, before your door creaked open, none other than Dean himself standing in the doorway. You must’ve looked suspicious, but you tried to muster it with a nod in greeting. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. He gave you one of those drop-dead gorgeous smiles once again, and took a seat next to you on your bed, his knee just barely grazing yours. 

“Sammy found a hunt. Not far from here. Should be quick and easy, we’d probably be back by dinner. Vamps is my guess.” Dean relayed, your mind grasping onto every word. “You coming?” 

“Um.” You wouldn’t normally decline a hunt, especially with the Winchester’s, but the fiasco that morning had your anxiety at an all time high. “It’s ok. You guys go, you’ll be fine without me. I’m feeling a little bleh today anyway.” You reassured. 

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, reaching out to gingerly place his hand on your cheek. You almost gasped. “Are you ok? Any fever? Did I poison you with breakfast?” 

You giggled and shook your head in response, reveling in the way his warm hand felt against your face. “No. It’s probably nothing, but I think I’m gonna get some more rest.” 

“Ok.” Dean replied quietly, his hand lingering on your cheek for a minute more before he pulled it back. “Rest up then, sweetheart. Call us if you need anything, ok?” With another quick kiss to your forehead, he was up and standing in the doorway. 

“Dean.” You called his name softly, watching as he turned around, his green eyes locking onto yours. “Be safe, both of you.” 

“Always, sweetheart.” With a sly wink, he was gone; leaving you to bury your head in your pillow and smile like a damn fool. 

Dean really had no idea what he did to you, how much you loved him, and he never would. To him, you were probably the annoying little sister he never wanted that he just has to put up with for Sam’s sake. You weren’t an idiot, you had seen the girls he flirted with; bleach blonde, perky boobs, legs for days, and skinny as hell. You sat on the sidelines and watched every time a bimbo would walk up to him, run their hands across his chest and bat their eyelashes at him. No matter how hard you tried or what you did, you’d never be like those women. It was a daunting thought that always haunted you, that the man you loved would never love you back. Nobody had ever loved you before, so why should anyone love you now? Your father had been right, you were completely worthless. 

Burying your head in your pillows, you picked up your blanket from where it had been on the floor and draped it over yourself. You changed positions to lay on your side, your hand resting under your head for support. You didn’t know when it happened, but you soon realized the tears trailing down your face. Hiccuping on your sobs, you clenched your eyes shut and willed yourself to sleep. Everything was better when you were asleep, there was no struggle, no insecurity, no longing, no fear, and no pain. With a deep breath and a long sigh, your body slowly succumbed back into a deep sleep. 

-

When you later woke from your impromptu nap, you felt slightly more energized. A wave of relief washed over you. A glance at your clock told you that it was 2pm, and your stomach grumbled loudly in protest. You pulled yourself out of bed, tidied yourself up so you didn’t resemble a zombie, and headed to the kitchen. Once there, you made yourself a simple but filling ham sandwich. After your quick lunch, you peeled open both the freezer and fridge to find little food; there wasn’t even a decent meal for dinner that night. With a determination, you pulled on your jacket, grabbed one of your many fake credit cards, hopped in your Camaro and headed to the grocery store. 

At the grocery store, you stocked up on all of the essentials which included eggs, bread, cheese, milk, coffee, and toiletries. Your mind reeled back to how thoughtful is was of Sam and Dean to cook breakfast for you, so you made a quick decision to cook them a nice dinner for when they got back from their hunt. You grabbed a pack of pre-made burgers, veggie burgers for Sam, freshly sliced bacon, lettuce, tomato, cheese, hamburger buns, and a big bag of russet potatoes. You’d be damned if you were going to let your boys go hungry. With a giddy smile, you checked out at the cash register and headed back home with your haul. 

Once you made a few trips from your car to the kitchen, you had unpacked everything by 4pm. You knew the boys might be home sooner rather than later, so you decided to get started on dinner. By 5:30pm, you had three plates set up at the small table in the kitchen, waiting on your homemade french fries to be done frying. When they were thoroughly cooked to your liking, you dished them out evenly onto the three plates on the table. You stepped back, examining your work and nodded with confidence; at least you were good for something. You made yourself a simple cheeseburger. For Sam, a veggie burger complete with lettuce and tomato. For Dean, a cheeseburger loaded with all the bacon he could ever want. 

It proved to be immaculate timing when the front door of the bunker swung open as soon as you had finished. You grinned eagerly as you heard footsteps leading to the kitchen, their sense undoubtedly following the smell of fresh food. You were pouring yourself a glass of water when you heard them enter the kitchen. Turning around, you were met with a very intrigued Sam and Dean. You smiled timidly in greeting, gesturing to the food. 

“You guys made me breakfast, only fair I make you dinner.” You bargained with a small shrug of your shoulders. “How was the hunt?” 

Dean wasted no time in taking a few long strides towards you, your heart beating harshly against your chest. He cupped your face in his rough but gentle hands so gracefully that you were sure you would faint. Green eyes bore into yours as Dean smiled appreciatively down at you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, your eyes instinctively closing at the feeling. You were still sure his newfound attitude was all a joke, but that surely wouldn’t stop you from reveling in it; especially when he leaned down even further to whisper to you, 

“What would I do without you, sweetheart?”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of Child Abuse/Sexual Assault, Symptoms of Abuse
> 
> These next few chapters are pretty rough, guys.

The comforting rumble of Baby lulled you gently back and forth as Dean drove her steadily down the open road. Sam was sat in the passengers seat, snoring loudly, his head pressed uncomfortably against the window. You shook your head with a smile, figuring the poor guy must’ve been exhausted. The three of you were currently on your way to a hunt in Northern Minnesota, where three young girls had been brutally murdered by what the locals deemed was a bear. You were excited to get out of the bunker, and with your reinvigorated love of hunting, you strapped on your boots and were the first one to hop in the car. The past week had been rough on both your body and your mind, so you hoped the hunt would prove to be a worthy distraction. 

Letting out a small yawn, you looked towards Dean in the drivers seat. Your position allowed you to see the subtle clench of his jaw, and the way the streetlights shone upon his face in the darkness of the night. He had one hand on the steering wheel, making the mundane task of driving look like a toddler could do it. Dean’s right hand was resting on his leg, his fingers lightly twitching. You recognized it, you had dealt with the symptom many times before. Dean was no stranger to anxiety and inner turmoil, and you wanted nothing more than to try and help him through it. 

“Dean.” You called his name quietly, leaning forward to rest against the back of the front seat. “What’s your favorite Led Zeppelin song?” 

“Whole Lotta Love.” He replied without missing a beat, looking to you with a charming smirk on his face. “You?” 

“Dazed and Confused. AC/DC?” 

“T.N.T.”

“High Voltage.” 

There was a pregnant pause before Dean easily continued the conversation. “What about Queen?” 

“You Take My Breath Away. What about you?” 

“Fat Bottomed Girls.” 

You rolled your eyes, a faint blush rising to your cheeks. “I thought it would’ve been I’m In Love With My Car.” 

“Well that too.” Dean confirmed, a sly smirk painted across his features. “But definitely Fat Bottomed Girls.” 

You glanced down to notice his fingers were no longer twitching and gave him a once over. He seemed more relaxed and more at ease than before you had started the conversation. Distractions had always worked wonders for your anxiety, and you were elated that it helped him as well. You briefly wondered why it was so easy to help him, yet so difficult to help yourself. His chest was rising and falling with ease, his jaw no longer clenched. Dean looked at you with a thankful expression, and a smile that you thought seemed more sad than happy. 

“Thanks.” It was short, it was sweet, and it was Dean Winchester. You wouldn’t have him any other way. 

“You’re welcome.” 

-

The two Winchesters let out a relieved sigh once they finally swung the door of the motel room open. You had been driving for around 12 hours straight from Lebanon to Bemidji, Minnesota. You were all in desperate need of a shower, food, and sleep. The motel room had a hideous purple and green wallpaper that looked like it came straight out of the 70s, but all that mattered at that point was warm water and a place to sleep. There was two queen beds, and a couch tucked against the wall. You started to make your way towards the couch when you felt two large hands tug on your waist, steering you towards the bed furthest from the door. Tilting your head up, you locked eyes with Dean in bewilderment. 

“Dean, you can have the bed. You’re a hell of a lot taller than me, the couch isn’t gonna cut it.” You bargained, only to be met with a stubborn shake of the head. 

“No way, sweetheart. I’m a gentleman.” Dean reassured with a cute wink. 

“Are you sure?” You asked sarcastically, folding your arms over your chest. He rolled his eyes in amusement, and wordlessly set his bag down on the couch. 

“You’re not gonna change his mind.” Sam spoke up with a smile, simultaneously rolling his eyes and shaking his head at his brothers stubbornness. “Dean, you can shower first. You drove the whole way.” 

“Thanks, Sammy. That means I can actually get some hot water before you use it all washing your princess hair.” Dean retorted, making his way to the doorway of the small bathroom. “Thanks, bitch.” 

Sam rolled his eyes again. “You’re welcome, jerk.” 

You heart swelled at the sight of them teasing each other. That was one thing that had never changed throughout the years you had known them. The Winchester’s bond was just about the strongest and most pure thing you had ever seen. It made you wish you had a sibling growing up. Being an only child was lonely and desolate, especially when you were used and abused everyday by somebody you thought was supposed to love and care for you. You had no siblings, no parents, no aunts, no uncles, no extended family. Since you had met Sam and Dean, along with Castiel, they had become everything to you. You could only hope that you meant something to them as well.

“Hey, you ok?” Sam asked softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

You instantly nodded, amazed at how easily him and Dean could tell when you felt off. You took a seat down on the bed furthest from the door, Sam following suit on the other. Tucking your hands underneath your legs, Sam watched you carefully, waiting for you to be comfortable. You didn’t know what it was, but you felt like you needed to get everything off of your chest. Sam was your best friend, he surely wouldn’t judge you, right? The prospect of confessing your longing for your best friend’s older brother made you nervous. Once you took a few deep breaths, you opened your mouth and decided to let the words flow on their own. 

“Sam, have you ever been in love?” You decided on asking, watching as intense pain and despair littered his face. 

“Yeah, I have.” The younger Winchester responded sadly with a nod of his head. “Her name was Jessica. She was my girlfriend at Stanford. I loved her from the first second I saw her. I wanted to ask her to marry me after we graduated, but she... the thing that killed our mom, killed her too.” 

Your heart shattered into a million pieces, feeling for your best friend who worked up the courage to share that with you. Standing up from your bed, you sat down next to him and leaned your head on his shoulder in an attempt to both comfort him and let him have a moment. Once it felt right, you picked your head up from his shoulder and watched as he smiled gratefully at you. He had never told you about Jessica in all the years you had known him, but you were sure that it was a touchy subject for him. You didn’t ask about her any more after that, you didn’t want to pry. 

“I assumed you asked me that because you want to tell me you’re in love with Dean?” Sam suddenly questioned, your eyes widening in shock at his boldness. He was smiling as if he wanted to say ‘I told you so’, but didn’t. 

“Is it that obvious?” You replied with another question, flicking your pointer finger off of your thumb in an attempt to calm your nerves. 

“Y/N, you look at him like he hung the god damn moon in the sky. Not to mention the fact that you turn into a blubbering mess whenever he calls you sweetheart, or like that other day when he called you pretty. And when you-“ 

“Ok, I get it!” You rebutted with a hand in the air. It was silent for only a few seconds before you both burst into laughter. Once you came down from your laughing fit, you distinctly nodded your head. “Yeah, I am in love with that idiot.” 

In the silence of the motel room, you could both hear the shower turn off. It was only a minute before the door opened, steam billowing out through the crack. Dean stood there, plaid pajama pants and a grey t shirt, his damp hair looking messy and cute at the same time. He cracked a curious smile. 

“What are you guys talking about?” 

-

Baby pulled to a stop in front of 17 Ash Ave. It was a normal, two story white house with a beige fence surrounding it. There was one of those swinging seats on the front porch that was gently blowing in the breeze. You and the boys were there to question Mr. Jacobson, whereas his 7 year old daughter had been in the same class as the young girls that were murdered. The door of the Impala suddenly whipped open to your left, where Dean stood with an outstretched hand. You smiled, and reached for his hand as he helped you out of the car and onto your feet. You hesitantly let go of his hand to smooth out your shirt. Your usual getup was dark jeans, black boots, a button down shirt, and an FBI jacket. 

You followed closely behind as Dean led you and Sam to the front door, knocking generously three times. The door swung open a minute later, a man with dark black hair and a disheartening smile greeting you. Sam had always been the best at starting conversations with victims and suspects, so you willingly let him take the lead. 

“Mr. Jacobson, I’m Agent Parker, this is Agent Stark and Agent Danvers. We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions about your daughters classmates.” Sam introduced politely, his friendly smile and aura working wonders. 

“Oh. Sure. Come on in.” Mr. Jacobson ushered the three of you inside, and led you to his pristinely clean living room. 

There was a little girl, undoubtedly his 7 year old daughter Daisy. She was on the floor, dressed in an adorable sundress, her hair in neat pigtails. She glanced up at you with curiosity before going back to playing with the toys in front of her. Daisy’s father knelt behind her and placed a hand on her back. You didn’t expect the young girl to flinch away from him. Your eyes widened, and every fiber in your being kicked into overdrive. It was the same reaction that had become routine whenever your father would sneak up on you. 

“This is my daughter, Daisy. Can you say hi to the nice people, honey?” Mr. Jacobson said, the young girl giving a timid wave in response. “Isn’t she beautiful?” 

The young girl stood up from her place on the floor in a moments notice. You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched her, and quickly realized that she was urinating on the floor. Your heart fell to your stomach in complete realization. That was another sign. Sam and Dean were completely bewildered and confused by the sight in front of you, and you were angry. It took every ounce of your being to not pummel into Mr. Jacobson’s face right then and there. You needed to confirm your suspicions with Daisy, even though you were positive that what you believed was happening, actually was. 

“Daisy!” Mr. Jacobson scolded his daughter, her face turning into a frown. “I’m so sorry about this. Let me just-“ 

“I can take care of her, Mr. Jacobson.” You stepped forward, pleading with the vile man in front of you. “I’m a mother, it’s happened many times. I don’t mind.” That was a lie of course, but you needed to get her away. 

“That’s very kind. Sure.” He nodded with a fake smile. “Why don’t you two go into the kitchen? I’ll be with you in a minute.” He then addressed Sam and Dean. 

Stepping forward, you grabbed gently onto Daisy’s hand and made your way upstairs in search of a bathroom. You led her in, and assured her you’d be back in a moment. It was pure luck that the first door you opened happened to be her bedroom. You quickly found her dresser, and pulled out new underwear and a new dress. Bile rose in your throat when you realized that her entire outfit was dresses. The sicko must have some kind of fetish, you thought. Pushing the thought aside, you headed back to the bathroom with her clothes in hand. 

She was still standing in the same position, her eyes red and puffy. Your heart broke, because that had once been you. Hunt be damned, you were going to get this girl away from that monster of a man. You wordlessly helped Daisy clean up and change into her new outfit. She didn’t protest the entire time, most likely because she was used to being exposed against her will. Once she was dry and comfortable, you grabbed her hand again and led her to her bedroom. Closing the door behind you, you sat down on the floor next to a box of toys and willed her to do the same. She did so without arguing, and looked at you curiously. 

“Hi, Daisy. I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself with a smile. 

“Hi.” She mumbled in response, twirling one of her pigtails around her little finger. It was something, at least. 

“I want to ask you a few questions, if that’s ok.” You reassured her, watching as her head bobbed up and down. Reaching into the box next to you, you pulled out a Barbie and Ken doll. You held onto the Ken doll, and handed her the Barbie. 

“Daisy, I know I’m a stranger, but you can trust me. I need you to answer me honestly, does your dad hurt you?” You slowly asked the disheartening question, watching as her bottom lip began to quiver. The young girl simply nodded her head in response. You clenched your eyes shut and willed yourself to push the tears back. 

“Can you show me on Barbie where he hurts you?” Your voice was calm and soothing as you asked her. 

With shaking hands, she pointed her finger immediately under the Barbie’s dress. You audibly gulped, the rage you felt working it’s way through you was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. When you experienced this very thing as a child and teenager, it didn’t occur to you that there would be others out there suffering like you. Here was this young girl, who reminded you so much of yourself, practically begging for help. She didn’t ask audibly, but you could see the fear and pain in her eyes. She probably didn’t even know what was happening to her, and that thought drove you even further to the edge.

“Does he put this part inside you?” With a deep sigh, you pointed your finger towards the genital area on the Ken doll. When Daisy nodded her head once again, you felt a tear begin to trail down your cheek. You were going to help this girl, if it was the last thing you ever did. 

“Daisy, I can help you.” You offered her with a small smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “You have to tell me. Do you know of any other family you could stay with? A brother or sister? A grandma?” 

When she effectively shook her head, you sighed in defeat. You knew what the only option was, but you would do anything to help her at that point. You pulled out your cell phone from your back pocket, calling the 411 information line and connecting to the number you needed. When the phone began to rang, you watched Daisy intently. You could only hope that Sam and Dean were taking their time with their questioning, so you were able to enact your plan. 

“Beltrami county child protection services, how can I assist you?” The chipper voice of a young woman reached your ears. 

“Hi. I’m FBI agent Danvers investigating the recent murders in Bemidji. I have a young girl with me in need of help. She’s being sexually abused.” You relayed with bated breath, anxiously glancing at the door. 

“Is the child in immediate danger, ma’am?” 

“I just told you she was being sexually abused, what the hell do you think?” 

“Ok, ma’am.” The woman replied with a firm tone. “What I’m gonna need you to do is call the local police department, tell them everything you just told me. They can arrest the perpetrator, and I’ll have a representative from our offices meet you at the station, alright?” 

“Ok. Thank you.” You replied, feeling Daisy’s hand tugging on yours. She was visibly shaken, and situated herself to sit in your lap, curling herself against you. 

With a well thought out swiftness, you had called the local police department and they had assured you that they would be there in only a few minutes. You held Daisy close against you as she whimpered against your shoulder. The both of you sat in silence for only about two minutes before you heard a very loud banging on the front door. Daisy wrapped her legs around your waist and latched her arms around your neck as you stood up and headed for her bedroom door. You heard various voices shouting as you made your way downstairs, the young girl latching onto you as if you would disappear if she let go. 

Turning into the living room, you were greeted by the sight of Mr. Jacobson face down on the grey carpet; a police officer securing his hands behind his back tightly in cuffs. In the corner of the room stood Sam and Dean, watching the whole scene play out with confused murmurs. They glanced up at you, noticed Daisy tightly wrapped around you, and seemed to instantly understand. They scowled at the man on the floor, then looked back at the young girl with sympathetic eyes. 

“Agent Danvers?” Another officer stepped up to your side, capturing your attention. 

“Yes, that’s me.” You confirmed with a firm nod of your head. Daisy clutched onto you tighter at the presence of a new stranger. 

“You can follow us down to the station, there’ll be a rep from child services there.” He replied with a firm tone, moving to assist the other officer in pulling Mr. Jacobson from the floor. 

When the man’s eyes locked onto you holding his daughter, he growled. “You stupid bitch! You can’t do this!” His harsh words fell on deft ears as you tuned him out, comfortingly caressing the young girl’s back. Once he was out of sight and hearing range, you wordlessly walked out the front door and headed towards the Impala. 

The ride to the police station had been an eerily quiet one, the only sounds being the soft rumble of Baby, and Daisy’s heartwrenching whimpers. Dean once again opened the back door of the Impala to help you out, your eyes silently thanking him. You sighed deeply before looking over the brothers, seemingly deciding on something. 

“You guys finish the hunt without me.” You pleaded. “I have to do this.” 

“Of course, sweetheart.” Dean answered, his voice more quiet and softer than you had ever heard it before. You gave them one final nod before waltzing into the police station, a broken little girl attached to your hip. One that you could only hope would eventually make it through. 

-

You had spent the rest of the day at the station with the child services representative. He had assured you from the moment you arrived that Daisy had a long lost aunt who lived not far away, and was more than willing to take her in. So there you sat, in a bustling and noisy police station, huddling the little girl close to your chest. The police officers had been kind enough to bring both you and Daisy some sandwiches and chips. She quickly devoured the sandwich in her little hands, while you picked at yours and wondered if Sam and Dean were ok. Of course they’d be ok, you thought, they were the god damn Winchesters after all.

It was hours later, the sun had long since set when your phone started to ring. Daisy was fast asleep in your lap, a small puddle of drool forming on your shirt, but you didn’t quite mind. She thankfully didn’t stir at the noise. Without checking the caller ID, you hit accept and held the phone up to your ear. 

“Hello?” You greeted softly, hoping not to disturb the sleeping girl. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Dean’s familiar and comforting voice procured a soft smile on your lips. “Me and Sammy finished the hunt. It was a werewolf.” A long pause. “How’s the little one?” 

“She’s asleep.” You answered quietly, gently rubbing soft circles onto her back. “She has some long lost aunt who should be here anytime to take her. I hope that bastard withers away in prison where he belongs.” 

“Me too.” Dean growled ferociously in response before audibly sighing into his phone. “Me and Sam will be right here at the motel waiting for you, alright?” 

“Alright.” 

“Everything’s gonna be ok, sweetheart. I promise.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Detailed Mentions of Past Abuse/Sexual Assault

It might’ve been the determined whispers outside your door, or the rumbling of your stomach that woke you. Your eyes fluttered open, glancing at your clock only to realize that you had been sleeping for 24 hours straight. The drive home from Minnesota had you feeling ok, but as soon as your head hit your pillow, you fell hard and fast back into a place you never wanted to be again. Saying goodbye to Daisy had been difficult, the little girl clinging to your shirt, bawling her eyes out and asking why you had to leave her. The days after the Jacobson incident found your mind reeling itself back into a suicidal headset. Your body was hungry, but you didn’t want to eat. You were in desperate need of a shower, but you didn’t want to move. 

All you really wanted to do was close your eyes, and hope everything would disappear. Except for the fact that when you closed your eyes, you saw your father. It had been so long since you’d had nightmares about the man, and you presumed they were triggered by what had happened with Daisy. For days on end, you lied in bed, pretending to be asleep when you heard Sam or Dean open your bedroom door to check on you. You even heard the flutter of Castiel’s wings a few times, and you had a hunch that he knew you were never asleep, but he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t like you wanted to explain it to them, anyway. How would you even begin that conversation? 

Three distinct voices could be heard from outside your door, undoubtedly the Winchester’s and Castiel. You knew they were talking about you, even if you couldn’t hear any words. It was only a moment after the voices ceased that the door slowly cracked open, someone swiftly stepping inside and shutting it behind them. You kept your eyes open, too exhausted to pretend, and watched as Castiel stepped into your line of vision. He looked at you with curiosity, his head slightly tilted to the side. He looked over you, presumably searching for any physical injuries. The angel hesitated for a moment before placing a hand on your forehead. A flash of blinding light clouded your vision momentarily, before returning back to normal. 

“I don’t know what exactly you’re going through Y/N, but we are all here for you.” Castiel said quietly, your mind finding his gruff voice rather soothing. “I can take away your nightmares, if you would like.” 

No words worked their way from your mouth, instead, you simply nodded. The angel’s face now held a hint of sympathy as he looked at you. He blinked once, twice, before raising his hand to press two fingers to your forehead. The blinding light filled your vision once again, before darkness quickly overcame you; your mind finally falling into a dreamless sleep.

-

The gentle but definitive knock on your door was what woke you later on. The time on your clock read 4:03pm. Feeling a bit stiff, you achingly stretched your bones and maneuvered yourself to sit cross-legged on your bed. Your bedroom door opened, and Sam greeted you with a cautious smile. He gingerly latched the door shut behind him, and moved slowly and carefully towards you. Once he felt you weren’t going to protest, he took a seat at the end of your bed, watching you with a strange intensity. 

“Y/N, I’m not gonna ask you how you are, cause I know you’re not doing good.” Sam started, a sad smile on his face. “But I just want you to know how much we all care about you. We’re all worried about you, especially Dean.” Your ears perked at the mention of his name. “He’s barely sleeping. I can hear him every night pacing back and forth in his room. He’s always cracking open your door just a little bit, to make sure you’re still there. He won’t go on any hunts, he refuses to leave you alone. I know you’re struggling, but you can’t shut yourself off completely. Why don’t you at least try to take a shower, get out of your room for a little bit?”

“Ok.” You found yourself mumbling, your voice dry and hoarse from days of dehydration and exhaustion. “I can do that.” 

Sam had walked you to the bathroom, and within ten minutes, you found yourself stripped and standing still underneath a warm stream of water. You thought it might take your mind off of everything, but all resolve you had broke when your hand grazed the small but ever painful scar on your left hip. Salty tears poured from your eyes, mixing with the fresh water running down the drain. With hiccuping sobs, you did your best to thoroughly wash your hair and body. Once you turned the water off, the tears stopped, and you felt only slightly better. Toweling off as you stepped out, you were grateful for the pile of clothes neatly tucked onto the corner of the sink. 

Once you had changed into the comfortable leggings and sweatshirt, you let your damp hair fall on your shoulders and slowly headed back to your room. The shower felt nice and made your physical being feel slightly better, you just wished your mind could do the same. Sam was waiting in your room, a happy smile on his face when he saw you looking just a tad more vibrant. You made your way by him to plant yourself back on your bed, only this time, you didn’t feel an urgent need to go back to sleep. 

“Sam.” You called his name quietly, fixing your eyes on the tall man. “Where’s Dean?” 

“Do you want to see him?” 

“Yes.” 

Exactly one minute and thirty two seconds later, Dean was barreling through the door with an intense fervor. You were in the same position, looking up at him in adoration. It had been days since you’d actually seen his face, and it shocked you to your core when you subconsciously smiled at the sight of him. He approached you with caution, much like Sam had, and sat close enough to you that your knee was touching his thigh. 

“I’ve been worried sick about you, sweetheart.” Dean told you with a sigh of relief. “How do you feel?” 

As if on cue, your stomach growled so loud that you thought a werewolf was hiding underneath your bed. “Hungry, I guess.” 

Dean chuckled, rubbing his hand across the scruff on his chin. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, and you wondered just how worried he had been about you. It didn’t feel right, that someone was worried enough about your well being to neglect themself. The more you looked at Dean’s sunken eyes and low shoulders, the more you realized that you were probably wrong. He probably felt bad for Sam’s best friend, and wanted her to get better for him. Yeah, that was it. 

“How about we go get some food, take a ride, just you and me?” Dean suggested, his eyes lighting up at the possibility. You nodded. 

-

Dean had taken you to a diner a few miles from Lebanon. It was a chilly night, although you were anything but. Perhaps it was the feeling of finally being outside after so long, or maybe it was because of Dean’s hand squeezing tightly onto yours during the ride. The diner was a hole in the wall, with one waitress popping her gum behind the counter, and an old man sipping coffee at the counter. It was quiet and isolated, and you were glad that Dean picked it as opposed to a bar or another bustling business. You didn’t think you could deal being around that many people at the moment. 

Around thirty minutes later, you had three fourths of your cheeseburger and half of your fries settling in your stomach. You and Dean ate wordlessly, although you could feel his eyes on you every once in a while. It was evident that he had many questions, ones that you were terrified to answer. However, as your mind wandered back to an old friend of yours, you knew exactly what you needed to do. Get it out in the open, talk about it, acknowledge it, and work through it. If you continued to bury it beneath the surface and suffer in silence, you feared you’d find yourself standing on the edge of another bridge. 

Once you were both done with your meal, Dean paid with a polite thank you, and then you were both back in the Impala. You were confused when he drove the opposite direction of home, but since you trusted him completely, you didn’t mention it. It was almost silent, except for Led Zeppelin playing quietly in the background. You drove in a comforting calmness for five minutes before your hand started to twitch. With no hesitation, you reached your left hand out and gently tapped his right one with your finger. It only took him a second to react, facing his palm up and intertwining his hand with yours, giving it a light squeeze. 

A familiar heat made it’s way to your face, your lips threatening to upturn into a giddy smile. You took a chance and glanced at Dean out of the corner of your eye. He was still staring at the road directly in front of him, but there was a grin upon his face. You decided that you were already feeling better; whether is was Dean himself, or experiencing an emotion besides pain, you weren’t sure. All you knew was with him, in the Impala, one of your favorite bands echoing softly around you, was your favorite place in the world. 

The ride lasted around fifteen minutes before Dean made a sudden turn onto a dirt road. Baby rocked back and forth on the rough texture until he pulled into the entrance of a large field. Wordlessly, he turned off the car’s engine, an overwhelming silence lingering over your heads. Dean made the first move, detaching his hand from yours, pushing the handle of his door open and stepping out. You followed suit, gently pushing the car door shut behind you. It had become habitual, you knew how much he loved Baby, so you always did your best to be careful with her.

Dean moved around to front of the Impala, leaning back on the front hood and crossing his ankles. You gave him a look to ask it if was alright, and when he nodded, you hopped up on the hood next to him, your legs dangling over the front. The only noises that could be heard were crickets, a soft breeze, and the sound of both yours and Dean’s steady breathing. You fiddled with your fingers, breathing in a pattern you had learned years ago, and looked up at the stars. With a heavy heart, you wondered if your mother was in heaven. Half of you wanted to ask Castiel if he had ever seen her in heaven, and the other half was satiated by just believing it. For what seemed like forever, the two of you sat in peaceful bliss. You were waiting for Dean to say something, since you didn’t want to be the first. It barely registered in your hazy mind when he started to speak. 

“Peaceful, isn’t it?” Dean questioned quietly, following your lead and looking up towards the shimmering stars. “I found this place a while back. After me and Sammy had a fight, I hopped in my car and drove, found this little niche.” 

You didn’t respond, continuing to stare at the stars. When your eyes shifted down towards the grass in front you, you took a shot in the dark and opened your mouth to speak. 

“I had a feeling when he put his hand on Daisy’s back, she flinched away from him. And the- the other thing, I knew for sure. It’s a pretty common sign, cause I used to do it too.” You were shocked at how easily the words flowed from you, so you kept going. 

“My mother died in a car accident when I was 6. My father was devastated and he wanted somebody to blame, it just happened to be me. It started with him yelling at me, and I didn’t understand why. I missed her just as much as he did. When I spilled milk on the floor one day, he slapped me across the face and told me how stupid I was. I went to school and had to explain the bruise by saying I had fallen off my bike. Over time it got worse, he would punch me, there was barely ever a day where I wouldn’t go to school without a black eye.” You inhaled shakily, trying to hold back the sob rising in your throat. “One night, when I was 9, he crawled into my bed, put a hand over my mouth. He- he raped me, and told me it was the only thing I was good for, even though I was fat. The next day at school, I wet myself all over the rug. I was so embarrassed and ashamed that I sat in the nurses office crying the rest of the day. Over time I learned that whenever he would try to touch me, I could pee myself, and he’d back off.... sometimes.” 

A tear trailed down your cheek and in the silence, you wondered if Dean was even still there. You looked over at him, he was staring out at the open field in front of him, but you knew he had been listening. His hands were forming into solid fists, and his jaw was clenched, his eyes glazed over with fury. 

“When I saw Daisy, helpless, scared, it reminded me of myself.” You continued with shaky breath. “I swore I was gonna help her, and I’m glad I did. I only wish I could have had someone to help me. With my father, and being constantly bullied, I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t have any friends, I didn’t have anyone. When I was 17, I strapped a block to my ankle and stood on the edge of a bride in the middle of the night. I had every intention of jumping, but something stopped me. I still don’t know what it was. Sometimes I wish I had jumped, and sometimes I’m glad I didn’t.” 

“Spending all this time hunting monsters, you sometimes forget how horrible humans can be.” Dean suddenly broke his silence, turning to lock eyes with you. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

As if a switch flickered inside of you, your body began to shake, overwhelmed with emotion. You spewed out choked sobs as Dean reached for you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. He wrapped his arms around your middle, one hand resting on your back, the other on the back of your head, holding you closely to him. You fisted his shirt tightly in your hand, burying your head in his shoulder. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself feel. It hurt like hell to talk about everything that had happened to you, but it was somewhat better than bottling it all up inside. You let yourself cry in the comfort of the arms of the man you loved, and who you no longer doubted in caring about you. Dean being there for you in that moment told you everything you needed to know. 

You felt Dean press a gentle kiss on the top of your head, rubbing his hand softly on your back. “If I could, I’d go back in time and rip his heart straight out of his damn chest for what he did to you.” 

“He’s gone, Dean.” You shook your head, still hiccuping with sobs and whimpers. “But I still can’t get rid of him.” 

“I’m not gonna say it’s gonna get easier sweetheart, cause I don’t know that.” Dean replied, subconsciously cradling you closer. “What I can say, is that I’m here. Sam and Cas too. We’re family, family sticks together. I’m always gonna be here for you, and if I’m ever not, you have complete approval to kick my ass.” 

For the first time in days, maybe even a week, you laughed. “Yeah, we both know I could.” 

You pulled back from Dean just enough to look at up him through your lashes. He was smiling, presumably relieved at your change of being. “Never said I didn’t.” 

“Thank you, Dean.” 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean’s quote, “Spending all this time hunting monsters, you sometimes forget how horrible humans can be,” was inspired by a quote from one of my favorite fictional characters of all time, Maggie Rhee. 
> 
> “All this time running from walkers, you forget what people do.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None

“Are you serious Dean? You’re really arguing with me about this right now?” The younger Winchester barked, throwing his hands in the air in defiance. 

“Really Sam?” Dean growled back, shaking his head feverishly. “There’s no god damn way that Doctor Who is better than Dr. Sexy, MD.” 

“Dean.” Sam sighed exasperated, looking back and forth between you and his brother. You tried your hardest not to laugh. “Can we just agree to disagree and move on?” 

“Y/N agrees with me.” Dean responded confidently, his eyes shifting to you with a subtle doubt. “Right, sweetheart?” 

You bit your tongue to hold back your laugh and watched his face fill with hope. “I’m not saying anything.” 

One glance at Sam had your form shaking as you burst out into an obnoxiously loud laughter. Dean rolled his eyes with a small smile creeping up, only to start laughing along with you just a minute later. The whole ordeal was so childish, and you all knew it, but it felt great. It was some normalcy in the darkness that was your lives, and you were very grateful for it. There the three of you sat, on the floor of the library, your heads thrown back in childish laughter, clutching your stomachs and wiping tears from your eyes. It was a breath of fresh air for you especially, after your depressive episode. Talking to Dean seemed to have made it a tad easier to bear, not much, but it was a hopeful start. 

“It’s good to hear you laugh again.” Dean acknowledged softly when your hype eventually died down. You smiled in return, seeing Sam grin out of the corner of your eye. 

“Well you two doofuses do a great job at making me laugh.” You responded with a quiet giggle, leaning back as comfortably as you could against a bookshelf, pulling your knees up. “How did we end up on the floor?” 

“Must’ve been the whiskey that Dean poured down our throats.” Sam replied, swaying slightly before leaning against the bookshelf behind him. “Let’s play a game.” 

“Sammy, you’re such a lightweight.” Dean chuckled, holding his glass up to his lips and taking a small swig of his drink. “What kind of game?” 

“Huh.” Sam pondered, looking up at something you weren’t sure was actually there. “How about never have I ever? You’ve done it, take a sip.” 

“Sure, I’m in.” 

“Ok, I’ll start.” You perked up excitedly, Dean’s expensive whiskey starting to course through your veins. “Never have I ever been scared of clowns.” 

“Low blow, Y/N.” You watched as Sam huffed in annoyance, his own idea turning against him, and took a sip from his glass. “My turn. Never have I ever been kicked out of a bar.” 

Your eyes widened in amusement as Dean wordlessly took a sip, although it didn’t surprise you much. He was a defiant man, you had no doubt that he had gotten into a bar fight every now and again. Not to mention the fact that him and Sam loved to hussle people in billiards. You always sat to the side, intently watching and never playing. You were embarrassed to admit that you didn’t know how to play. A better part of you always wanted to ask Dean to teach you, and the other part was nervous to even ask. 

“Ok, I guess it’s my turn.” Dean shook his head at the strength of the whiskey. “Never have I ever been in handcuffs.” 

Your jaw practically dropped to the floor, as you slowly lifted your glass to your lips and took a small sip. Sam did as well, much to your surprise. They both looked at you in astonishment before you realized what they must have thought. Your eyes widened. 

“Oh no! Not like that, guys!” You confirmed, shaking your head rapidly. “In elementary school, some asshole kid stole his dad’s handcuffs and cuffed me to the swing set on the playground.” 

“Oh.” Dean mumbled, his eyes starting to become slightly glassed over. “Um, never have I ever had a one night stand.” 

It was no surprise to you when Sam and Dean both lifted their glasses to their lips. You didn’t, and watched in embarrassment as they looked at you in confusion. Truth be told, after your father, the idea of sex petrified you. A while before you met the Winchester’s, you were hunting with a man named Conor. He was a nice, average man, whom you had a timid crush on. Desperate for comfort and to feel, you fell into bed with him. It wasn’t an average wham bam thank you ma’am, but it didn’t happen again. You thought it would become something great, that you would be together. Except one day, he up and left, saying he only slept with you because he felt sorry for you, and that nobody else would ever want you. You never saw him again, and you never slept with anyone again after that. 

“Don’t act so surprised, guys.” You said with a sad smile, Dean’s face scrunching in confusion. “No guy likes a woman that looks like me. I’m fine with it though, not the kind of person for a one night stand anyway.” 

“That’s bullshit, sweetheart.” Dean responded, a soft growl hidden behind his voice that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re beautiful. Any guy with a brain above their waist would be lucky to have you.” 

A simmering heat coursed through your veins, whether it be the whiskey or Dean’s voice calling you beautiful. You gulped nervously as your face turned a deep shade of red. He was watching you expectantly, waiting for you to say something. You didn’t know how to respond, so you averted your gaze away from his eyes and shakily stood up from your spot on the floor. 

“I’m gonna head to bed. Had enough whiskey to last me for weeks. Goodnight.” Leaving your glass in the spot you once sat, you avoided any further conversation and headed to your room where you could be alone with all the thoughts swarming inside your head.

-

The next day was a rather quiet one. Castiel had popped in to see you, and gave you a warm hug, relieved to see that you were feeling better. He apologized for his continuous absence, but told you that he was dealing with his brothers for quite some time. You assured him all was fine in complete understanding, and he went on his way. Sam was on his laptop as per usual, searching for a case as he always did. It had been unusually quiet in the hunting community, which boggled all of you. You hoped it was nothing, but the rational side of you feared that it meant something bigger was coming your way. You went for the former idea, and hoped that you were right. 

You hadn’t seen Dean since the drunken altercation the night before. When you didn’t see him at his usual place in the kitchen, you asked Sam of his whereabouts, to find out that he was in the garage working on Baby. You doubted anything was even wrong with her, since you knew how much Dean liked to fiddle with his car whenever he felt stressed. You sure liked to watch him though. From the concentration on his face, to the way his muscles flexed underneath his t shirts. You felt like you wanted to go and talk to him, but you also didn’t want to come off as clingy. You didn’t necessarily like depending on others as much as you did, but you weren’t sure how to stop. 

With a huff, you figured Sam wouldn’t mind if you sat with him for a little while. You sat yourself down on the other side of the table, one spot down from him. There was a few books scattered about, and you picked up the closest one, setting it down in front of you. Once you opened it, you coughed at the slight spurt of dust and figured it hadn’t been touched in a while. It was a book on supernatural lore, mainly focusing on fairies, witches, and sirens; three creatures you had all encountered before. You shuffled through the pages for a few minutes, barely skimming the printed words until you became bored of it. You slammed the book shut, and shot Sam an apologetic look when he jumped at the noise. 

Just as you were about to give up on your quest for adventure and take a nap, your phone began to vibrate from inside your pocket. Wiggling it from out of your jeans, you frowned at the unknown number on your screen. You contemplated whether or not to answer it and decided to decline the call, since it was most likely an automated call. Barely a minute after you declined the call, the same number popped up once again. This time you were sure it wasn’t automated, and answered the call, hesitantly holding up the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You questioned, standing up from your seat and heading down the hallway for more privacy. 

“Oh peaches, it’s so good to hear your voice.” A very familiar voice responded, your heart swelling at the sound. 

“Angie?!” You questioned, holding a hand over your mouth in shock. 

You had met Angie Turner by chance in New Orleans, Louisiana. She was an avid practicer of both voodoo and witchcraft, among many other things. At some 50 odd years of age, Angie was a gorgeous dark skinned woman, with dark curly hair that she usually styled in braids. You had met her years back, at a witchcraft shop in The Big Easy. She had instantly become one of your best friends, despite you being a hunter, and you even lived with her for quite some time. She was the first person you opened up to about your father, and she was the one who told you that talking through trauma made it easier to bear. After your confession, you felt embarrassed and ashamed, and left Angie with a simple goodbye note. That was years ago. 

“Wasn’t hard to find your number, peaches. You know how I am.” Angie drawled on in her usual teasing tone, causing a sad smile on your face. “I’ve missed you, peaches. I need some help, I was hoping maybe we could have a reunion.” 

“I’ve missed you too, Angie.” You responded softly, suddenly feeling guilty at how you left her. “I’m so sorry about how I left. It was rude and I should have-“ 

“Enough.” That one simple word made you stop dead in your tracks. “You don’t have to apologize to me, peaches. I was just glad to have had your company for so long. Now.. my gorgeous hunter.. I could use some help.” 

“What’s wrong?” Your face scrunched up in both worry and confusion. 

Angie sighed deeply. “It seems as though I’m having some... issues. My spell books keep going missing, and just as they have been, there’s been murders around here that have everyone in a frenzy. I know better, peaches. Someone is stealing my spells and using them to kill.” 

“Oh gosh, Angie.” You sighed in response, pinching the bridge of your nose with your thumb and pointer finger. “Things are pretty quiet around here. I’d love to come help and see you. I guess it’s not too far of a drive to New Orleans.” 

“Oh sorry, peaches. I forgot. I left New Orleans. I’m in Lawrence, Kansas. Nice house, you’ll love it.” 

“You’re kidding?” Your jaw almost unhinged itself and dropped straight to the floor. “Lawrence? That’s where my... friends grew up. I’m living in Lebanon now. It’s only three hours out.” 

“That’s wonderful, peaches!” Angie responded, a smile evident in her voice. “So you’ll come?” 

“Of course I will.” 

-

With your back pressed against the wall, you breathed deeply in and out. Hidden around the corner to the entrance of the garage, your heart thumped rapidly against your chest. You had relayed your phone call to Sam, who suggested that you help your friend, as long as Dean went along with you. It was no surprise that the green eyed Winchester had an extreme dislike for witches. You weren’t sure how he would react to your proposition, and you found yourself filled with doubt. Just as you were about to turn and walk away, forgetting the whole thing, Dean’s voice calling your name stopped you in your tracks. 

“I know you’re there, Y/N.” Dean’s gruff voice spoke loudly enough for you to hear. “I’ve been listening to you shuffle back and forth for five minutes.” 

With a sigh of defeat, you ascended the few concrete steps and entered the garage. Dean was standing in front of Baby, the hood up, cleaning his hands on a white towel. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight of the grey t shirt clinging to his biceps, but you quickly averted your gaze. He was looking at you expectantly, questioning your nerves. You took a brave few steps towards both him and Baby until you were carefully leaning against the drivers side door. Dean leaned down and started to fiddle under Baby’s hood again. You inhaled anxiously and listened to the sound of clanging metal for a few minutes. 

“So a couple years back, I was living with a woman named Angie. She’s probably 60 now, but she’s honestly the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. Anyway, um, she just called me and she said she needed my help. She knows I’m a hunter, and she said someone’s been stealing from her and doing some pretty horrible things.” You tried to explain the situation the best you could. 

“Why does she need a hunters help, though?” Dean questioned, still leaning under Baby’s propped up hood. “Can’t she just call the cops?” 

“Oh, well..” You trailed off, watching Dean’s head lift up to look at you curiously. “She’s a witch. And I know that you don’t like witches, but she’s never harmed a hair on anyone’s head. She was such a good friend to me, she’s the first person I ever told about my father. Someone’s been stealing her spell books, and they’re using her spells to murder people, Dean. It’s not good. I told Sam, and he told me I should ask you to come with me.” 

After your confession, Dean was silent. You feared the worst, and crossed your arms over your chest in a feeble attempt to burrow into yourself. Even if he said no, you were still going to help your friend. Although you hoped he would say yes. You loved hunting with Dean, and you just loved being with him. It made life seem so much easier when he was around, like you finally had something to live for. To wake up everyday and go on a new adventure, good or bad, and have him by your side made you feel like you could do anything. 

“I’ll go with you.” Dean finally broke the silence, his voice calm but his muscles tense. “I don’t have to like it, but I’m sure as hell not gonna let you go alone.” 

You smiled, a beaming smile that stretched from ear to ear. “Thanks, Dean. You’ll love her, I promise.” 

“Well she certainly has good judgment if she’s friends with you.” Dean replied with a sly smirk, gently shutting Baby’s hood and leaning slightly on it. You rolled your eyes, still smiling. “Where are we going?” 

“Well that’s a funny story. She used to live in New Orleans, that’s where I met her. Now, she lives in Lawrence, Kansas.” 

“How ironic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angie Turner is inspired by the amazing Angela Bassett/Marie Laveau of AHS: Coven.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Nightmares of Past Abuse/Sexual Assault

“Sam, you can let go anytime now.” You choked out in between breaths, the younger Winchester’s towering frame crushing you in a friendly hug. He pulled away with a small, apologetic smile. 

“Sorry.” Sam mumbled, resting his hands gently on your shoulders. “Be safe, okay? Don’t let my brother do anything stupid.” 

“Well that’s inevitable.” You responded with a giggle, seeing Dean roll his eyes in your peripheral vision. “But I’ll try. You stay safe, too. Don’t have too much fun without us.” 

You turned away from Sam, only to walk directly into something solid. You squeaked in surprise, before looking up and realizing that it was only Castiel. He had the habit of popping in every now and again and scaring the daylights out of you, as well as Dean. It was so strange to you, how you had become such good friends with an angel. He loved humanity, as he once told you before, and always assured that you were one of the ones who only further proved his belief and supported his admiration. Castiel had become a welcoming presence in your new family, and both you and the boys were always glad to have him around.

“Y/N, I hear you and Dean are going to assist a friend.” You nodded shortly in response. “If you are in need of any assistance, you can pray to me or call me on my digital phone; either will suffice.” 

“Thanks, Castiel.” You replied with a chuckle, reaching forward to give him a small hug. He hesitated for a moment, and then wrapped his arms around you in return. “See you around.” 

You watched adoringly as Dean said goodbye to Sam and Castiel. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the thought that you were going on a case with Dean and Dean alone. That had never happened before. It was usually always you and the Winchester’s, or the Winchester’s by themselves when you weren’t up for it. As you locked eyes with Sam, and noticed his smug grin, you couldn’t help but think that he had insisted on you and Dean going together for a reason. That made you even more nervous. You didn’t know how you were going to spend so much time alone with Dean without combusting from the inside out. 

“Ok, let’s get a move on, sweetheart.” Dean motioned to you as he made his way towards Baby. 

You said a final goodbye to both Sam and Castiel, before making your way to the passengers side of the Impala. Grabbing the handle, you pulled open the door and slid in, gently closing it behind you. Dean slipped in only a moment after you, and you couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks. It sometimes annoyed you how just simply being in his presence made you sweat. Before you knew it, you were looking at open road in front of you as you started on your journey. You tapped your fingers against your thigh in a smooth rhythm, watching the overwhelming beauty of nature pass you by outside the window. 

“Oh, almost forgot.” Dean suddenly said, causing you to turn your head towards him in question. He popped open the compartment in front of your knees, his hand brushing lightly against you, and pulled out a mixtape. “That’s for you.” 

If you could’ve seen yourself, you imagine you would have had literal hearts in your eyes. He gently placed it in your hand after shutting the compartment. Your hands were slightly trembling as you read his scrawled handwriting on the side. ‘For My Sweetheart’, it said. A large smile broke out upon your lips as you held carefully onto it. From that moment, you knew it was going to become your most prized possession; not because of what it was, but because of what it resembled. Whether it be platonic or romantic, you knew that you meant something to Dean Winchester. If that was all you would get, then that was enough for you. 

“I put those songs you mentioned. High Voltage, You Take My Breath Away, and I even added some Bee Gees. Know how much you love your disco.” Dean continued, chuckling and shaking his head teasingly. 

You watched him adoringly as he rambled on about your favorite songs, clutching the tape tightly in your hand. With a smile, you pictured him making a mixtape for you, and laughed at the thought. Dean had always been a mixtape, cassette, and CD kind of guy; you couldn’t imagine him moving over to digital playlists anytime soon. It was by far the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you, so you quickly made up your mind, and leaned over to place a shy kiss on his cheek. If this is how your trip was starting, you weren’t sure you’d make it through without embarrassing yourself.

“Thank you, Dean. This means a lot.” You thanked him once you settled back in your seat, watching as he grinned happily in return. 

“Well if that’s the reaction I get, I’ll make you some more.” Dean replied with a teasing wink, causing you to blush and sink further into your seat. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” 

-

_Gasping in fear and shock, you rounded the corner into the nearest room, slamming the door shut behind you. You clicked the lock in a frenzy, and searched the room for an escape route. When you found nothing, not even a window, your heart plummeted to your stomach. When you heard an intense banging on the door behind you, you made a hasty decision and crawled underneath the bed. You held your hand over your mouth in an attempt to quiet your cries of panic, and listened to the sound of the door being broken down. Once the banging ceased, you then heard slow and heavy footsteps make their way towards the bed._

_You looked to the left, to see black boots standing directly beside you. Clenching your eyes shut, you pressed your hand further onto your mouth as sobs threatened to spill out. You tried your best not to audibly sigh in relief when the boots disappeared and the footsteps quieted. With a deep sigh, you pressed your forehead against the cool hardwood floor. It barely registered when you felt a hand wrap around your ankle. Once you came to the realization, you screamed out loud as your body was forcefully pulled out from underneath the bed. _

_You were flipped over onto your back, and came face to face with none other than your father. He was grinning deviously, bearing all of his weight on top of you as he held his hand over your mouth. You kicked and slapped him as hard as you could while screaming behind his hand, but he didn’t budge. He reached for your jeans, your eyes widening and tears spilling from your eyes. _

_”Come on honey, daddy just wants to play.”_

_“Y/N!” A gruff, but familiar and comforting voice called to you. Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you continued to scream helplessly until your father disappeared from on top of you. _

Dean was holding onto your shoulders, his face nearly inches away from yours, looking down at you in reassurance. You let out a whimper of relief when it became clear that it had only been a nightmare. You lifted your right hand up to your arm and forcefully pinched your skin, confirming that you were indeed awake. The Impala was settled on the side of the road, Dean watching you with with an expression full of worry. 

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” 

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to lie. You instantly shook your head and subconsciously moved closer to Dean, wrapping yourself around him in a desperate attempt for comfort. He immediately responded, wrapping his muscular arms around you as you cried softly against him. You didn’t like how weak you felt in that moment, it was the second time you had cried in Dean’s arms in the past week. You desperately needed comfort, attention, someone willing to listen, and that’s exactly what Dean was. It just concerned you how quickly you you had become dependent on him. 

Once your eyes were dry, and you had no more tears left to shed, you hesitantly pulled away from Dean. You didn’t want to completely let go of him, so you pushed yourself back into your seat, but grasped tightly onto his hand. His hands were warm, and a worthy reminder that you weren’t still in your nightmare. Dean took it one step further, and gently maneuvered your hands so that his fingers were intertwined with yours. With a shaky sigh, you used your free hand to brush away the stray tears on your face. 

“I’m sorry-“ 

“Don’t you dare apologize, Y/N.” Dean growled, cutting you off mid sentence. “Nightmares are normal. It happens, and it’s not your fault. Don’t even think that.” 

You knew better than to argue with him, so you simply nodded your head in response. Glancing out the window, you noticed you were in a small and quiet neighborhood. It was difficult to even hear a passing bird. Turning to Dean, you looked at him in question. 

“Are we in Lawrence already?” You asked, your voice hoarse from crying. 

“Yeah.” Dean responded shortly, giving your hand a small squeeze. “We‘re almost to your friends house. 12 Crossgate Drive, right?” 

With a nod in return, Dean sighed and started up Baby again, still holding onto your hand. You knew it must’ve been strange for him to be back in his hometown, and the place where he lost his mother. You almost wanted to ask him which house he lived in, but decided against it. It was one minute and a few turns later, that Dean stopped short in front a house that you undoubtedly knew was Angie’s. It was a brick Victorian home, with a wrap around porch and a plentitude of flowers blooming on the front lawn. As you looked upon the house, you suddenly began to realize just how much you had missed Angie, and still felt like a coward for leaving her. 

“Let’s go see this infamous Angie.” Dean said with a chuckle, detaching his hand from yours, much to your dismay. He was out and around to your side in a matter of seconds, opening your door for you to step out. Once you did, he shut your door behind you and turned, about to make his way to the house. 

“Wait, no!” You protested, your back against the Impala. “I was just crying, I probably look horrible.” 

Dean shook his head with a small smile, moving to stand directly in front of you. You held your breath as he pushed his warm hands on your hair, gently tucking the stray strands back into place. You just about had to break your neck to be able to make eye contact with him, as he towered over you. You tried your best not to faint as Dean brushed his thumb gingerly against your cheekbone. 

“You look fine, sweetheart.” He reassured you, your breath hitching in response. “Beautiful, as always. Now let’s go.” 

With a beaming smile, you reached your own hand out to his outstretched one. He took it in his, intertwining your hands once again. As you walked up to Angie’s front door, with Dean on your left, you took a minute to admire her home. She had been right, you did love it. Sparing a glance at Dean, you couldn’t help but imagine what your life would’ve been like if you never started hunting. It was a morbid thought; but you imagined that you would’ve been dead. Despite your terrible nightmare; in that moment with the older Winchester, you realized that day was one of the ones in which you were glad you hadn’t jumped. 

Once you reached the front door, after ascending the few steps, you unwillingly pulled your hand out of Dean’s. You lifted a hand up to the door and knocked loudly. Barely a minute later, the door was open. Angie was there, staring at you with a happy smile and a hopeful expression. She was still as beautiful as ever, even at 60 years of age. She wore a long yellow sundress that complimented her dark skin, her hair in her usual style of long braids, with large hoop earrings and other jewelry to accessorize. 

“My goodness, peaches. Look at you!” Angie greeted, her hands held out towards you. “You’re even more gorgeous than the last time I saw you, although I’m not sure how that’s possible.” 

“Oh, Angie.” You chuckled, leaning forward to wrap her small frame in a welcoming hug. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, peaches.” Angie replied, pulling back from your hug. She rested her hands on your face, examining you before giving a small nod. You watched as her eyes drifted behind you, where Dean stood. “Now who might you be, handsome?” 

“Angie, this is Dean Winchester. He’s a hunter, a great one.” You introduced him, watching as she looked between the two of you with intrigue. “Dean, this is Angie Turner.” 

You watched on in surprise as Dean stepped forward to shake her hand in greeting, uttering a simple ‘Nice to meet you.’ Angie did the same, not so subtly looking him up and down before winking at you. You rolled your eyes at her, fighting the blush making it’s way to your face. She ushered the two of you inside and led you to her living room. The interior was what you had pictured it to be, candles in every corner, dreamcatchers dangling from the ceiling and fireplace, books strewn everywhere, some open, some not. Her home had a calm aura to it, much like the apartment you had lived with her in back in New Orleans.

You and Dean sat on one of her tan couches, sinking back into the plush cushions. He had sat directly next to you, so that your knee was brushing against his. Angie had left you with a wink, saying that she was going to the kitchen to get some drinks. You watched Dean as he sat, his knee bouncing up and down nervously. It was no shock to you that he had his qualms about being in a witch’s home, but you were grateful that he was doing it for you. You reached out and placed your hand gently on his knee, the movements instantly ceasing. He looked at you and nodded, signaling that everything was alright. 

Angie entered a few seconds later, your hand snapping back from Dean as if you were a kid who had been caught with your hand in the candy dish. The older woman smirked briefly before setting down a small drink tray on the coffee table in front of you. Angie handed you a cup of Passion Fruit Tea, and you smiled at the fact that she had remembered your favorite drink after so many years. You took a sip, watching as she handed Dean a plain white mug before settling back into her chair. You snuck a peek in the cup to see steaming hot coffee. You took a generous sip of your tea before placing it down on the table.

“So, do you have any idea who could be stealing your spell books?” You broke the silence with an important question, watching as Angie sighed. 

“There’s a lot of people in this neighborhood. Some I talk to, some I don’t.“ Angie shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, peaches, but it’s gotta be someone who knows what I am, and has an itch for murder.” 

“Aren’t your books bound to you?” You questioned with furrowed eyebrows. “Can’t you do a tracking spell on them or something?” 

“I’ve tried, believe me. I can’t find them.” Angie sighed, leaning forward to take a sip of her chamomile tea. 

“It might be another witch then.” You offered thoughtfully. “They might be cloaking it, that’s why you can’t track it.” 

“Beauty and brains. I knew I always liked you, peaches.” Angie winked, leaning back in her chair and gracefully crossing her legs. “It very well could be.” 

“Me and Y/N can ask the victims families if they’ve seen or heard anything strange.” Dean suggested, you and Angie both turning your heads towards him in surprise. “Might help narrow it down to a few people.” 

Angie simply stared at him, as if she was scrutinizing him. He shifted uncomfortably before she gave him a firm nod and looked back to you. 

“I can continue to try and locate them.” Angie responded decidingly. “I can’t thank you both enough for coming to help.” 

“Mrs. Turner.. Angie, I just want to be clear.” Dean started, your eyes widening in response, anxiously waiting for him to continue. “You seem great and all but I’m gonna be honest; not a big fan of witches, but Y/N asked me to help, and I will. For Y/N.” 

“I understand completely, handsome.” Angie responded, her hand resting gently underneath her chin. She was smiling the entire time she answered, her eyes flickering back onto you for only a moment. “Well, how about I cook up you two some lunch? I even made some beignets for you, peaches.” 

“What are beignets?” 

“You’ve never had a beignet?” You turned to Dean in shock, watching as he shook his head. “It’s the best damn thing you’ll ever eat. A classic New Orleans pastry, better than pie, I might add.”

“Well I highly doubt that, but now I gotta try one.” Dean responded, practically shooting up from his spot and heading straight for the kitchen. 

You watched with a smile as he walked out of the room, reaching forward and taking another sip of your tea. Once you placed the cup safely back down, you looked up to find Angie staring at you once again, with a knowing smirk on her face. 

“You’ve got it bad for him, peaches.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to those who are celebrating it today! :)


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None

_”You are a worthless, good for nothing little brat.” Your father spat at you, towering over your shaking frame as you buried yourself further into the corner. “Do you really think anyone cares about you, little girl? Do you think your precious little Dean actually gives a shit about a good for nothing little pig like you?”_

_You buried your head in your hands, crying loudly into them, hoping that he would disappear. He knelt down in front of you, leaned forward, and began to laugh maniacally in your ear. With every ounce of strength you could muster, you uncovered your face, and pushed him as hard as you could. When he locked eyes with you, your heart thumped in fear as he lurched towards you. Just as he was about to reach you, everything disappeared. _

With a choked gasp, your eyes snapped open to a dark room. You shot up in panic, and pinched your arm once again to confirm that you were awake. Resting a hand over your pounding heart, you sighed in relief at the fact that you were safe in one of Angie’s guest rooms. The thick blanket that was once covering you had been kicked onto the floor, and your skin was slick with anxious sweat. Your hair was askew and matted to your forehead, and you made quick work of plucking the strands away. You were wearing your blue sleep shorts and a t shirt that had become lopsided, so you quickly fixed those as well. 

You sat still on the bed for a few minutes, desperately attempting to regain your breath. Once you realized you were gearing up to a full blown panic attack, you made a quick decision and jumped up from the bed, heading to the door. The hallway was dark, and you made careful work of walking to the other end. You reached your destination, quietly pushing the door open. Stepping in, you closed it as softly as you could and planted your back against it. It was dark as well in the room, but there was a generous amount of moonlight pouring in through the window; allowing you to see the outline of Dean laying on his back. 

As you stood there unmoving, it began to seem like even more of a silly idea than you had originally thought. Your breathing was still unsteady, and your hands were starting to twitch. You didn’t want to bother Dean, and figured you’d just slip back out and stand under a stream of freezing cold water until your panic subsided. When you turned around and grasped onto the doorknob, a quiet but raspy voice caught your attention.

“Y/N.” Dean mumbled your name, and you turned around to meet his sleepy gaze. He was holding the blanket up slightly next to him. “Come here.”

With his confirmation, you pushed all your doubts aside and made your way towards him. Once you reached the bed, you carefully slipped underneath the raised blanket. Dean pulled it down over you, shifting a little bit closer towards you. You gulped nervously at the feeling of the warmth that radiated off of him. He laid close to you, and you stared up at the ceiling when you felt his gaze piercing through you. You attempted your 4-7-8 breathing for a minute, effectively calming yourself. 

“Another nightmare?” Dean asked sleepily. You nodded in response. “Are you ok?” You shrugged. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be right here.” 

That proved to be all the confirmation you needed, as your mind instantly relaxed at his reassurance. You laid your head down against the plush pillow, relaxing your muscles and closing your eyes. You listened to the sound of Dean’s steady breathing, and reveled in the comfort that you felt from him. It wasn’t long before your eyelids began to twitch, your mind and body falling into a restless sleep. 

-

You awoke abruptly, your eyes flickering open to see sunlight streaming in through the window. A small gasp of shock escaped you when you felt a warm body pressed against you. An instant wave of panic rushed through you, before remembering that you had fallen asleep next to Dean. He was full on cuddling you, his chest pressed against your back, and his heavy arm draped across you. You grimaced at the fact that he could probably feel every flab of skin on your body. His hold was so strong on you that you doubted you would be able to get it loose enough to escape. 

Sighing in defeat, you rested your head back on the pillow. You laid still for a few minutes before deciding to attempt an escape again. Attempting to lift his arm off of you failed, so you settled on trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp. You tried to subtly maneuver your way out from under him, but ended up pressing yourself even further against him. A squeal almost left your lips when Dean abruptly pulled you tighter against him. Your eyes widened when he growled sleepily in your ear. 

“You better stop squirming on me, sweetheart.” 

In an instant, you had practically thrown yourself out of his grasp, rolled out of the bed and landed directly on the hardwood floor. You scrambled to stand up, barely sparing a glance at Dean before almost running out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you. You ran back to your room, chanting an embarrassed ‘Oh my god’ the entire way there. Once you made it back, you clicked the lock on the door and dove head first into your bed. You buried your head underneath the pillow, letting out a muffled scream of frustration. 

Once you felt like you weren’t going to die of sheer embarrassment, you picked yourself up off of your bed and grabbed new clothes from your bag. You put on a pair of dark jeans, and a white button down shirt, since you figured you’d start on the questioning that day. Although, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to stand being near Dean after that morning fiasco. When he pulled you against him, you had half a mind to flip over and tackle him, but your self consciousness and lingering doubt held you back. 

When you were dressed and freshened up for the day, you left your room and carefully made your way downstairs. You hoped that you could avoid Dean for just a little while longer. Once you made it to the bottom of the creaky stairs, you turned and made your way into the kitchen. A gasp of surprise flew from your mouth when you were greeted by Angie. She was sitting at the kitchen table, her legs crossed, her hand tucked underneath her chin, a beguiling smile on her face. 

“Good morning, peaches.” Angie greeted you, a smile still visibly present. 

You mumbled a gentle ‘Good morning’ to her, making your way over to the counter to pour yourself a fresh cup of coffee. It was hard not to feel her gaze on your back as you did so. You took a hearty sip of your coffee, placing the mug back down on the counter in front of you. 

“I went to your room to wake you this morning, peaches, and you weren’t there.” Angie started, your eyes widening in response. “Were you in someone else’s room, perhaps?” 

“Angie, it’s not like that.” You responded quietly, turning around to lean back against the kitchen counter. “I had a nightmare, and I didn’t want to be alone. I told him... about my father, a few days ago.” 

“You must really trust him.” 

“I do.” You nodded, you had never been more sure of anything before. “I love him too, that’s what sucks.” 

“Why is that, peaches?” 

“Cause he’d never go for someone like me, Angie.” You sighed, your lips turning down into a frown. “I’m not exactly the most attractive woman that’s been in his company. I’m clingy too, god it’s so annoying. He’s probably over it by now. I just constantly want to be near him and hug him and hold his hand.” 

Angie frowned, uncrossing her legs, and standing from her chair to make her way to you. She placed her warm hands gently on your cheeks, cupping your face. 

“That’s normal, baby. You’ve only ever felt pain, it’s normal to long for touch that’s comfortable and welcoming.” She reassured you, her dark brown eyes connected with yours. “What’s this about not being his type? You are a beautiful woman, inside and out; and I think you’re underestimating just how he feels about you, peaches.” 

“Well..” You trailed off, sniffling gently to avoid the tears pooling in your eyes. “Until I were to hear it from him, I’m not gonna be able to believe it.” 

“Fair enough.” Angie nodded, stroking your skin gently with her thumbs, before dropping her hands. “Well, how about you sit and eat some breakfast while we wait for your man.” 

“Angie, stop teasing.” 

“Not a chance, peaches.” 

-

Dean had come down into the kitchen and joined you when you were halfway through breakfast. You shifted all your focus to the newspaper on the table in front of you, trying to avoid any embarrassing interactions. He gave you his signature jaw dropping smile, and you were relieved there was no mention of earlier that morning. After you had finished breakfast, you offered to wash your dishes, but Angie just shooed you away. She suggested that you and Dean get a move on the main objective, and generously gave you addresses of the few families of the victims. 

That was how you had gotten into your current position, sitting in the passengers seat of the Impala in front of yet another strangers house. Dean was sat in the passengers seat, looking as handsome as ever in his black suit. You pushed open the door, closing it softly behind you and making your way up to the house. It was another two story, cookie cutter home, with extensive and bright greenery on the front lawn. The home belonged to the Stewart’s, whose oldest son had been murdered through one of Angie’s spells. 

Dean stepped in front of you before you could reach the front door, taking it upon himself to reach up and knock firmly. You moved to stand next to him just as the front door swung open. A woman answered, with short dark hair, and red eyes, presumably from crying. She did lose her son, after all. You couldn’t imagine the pain she was going through. You smiled kindly at her, watching as she looked at the both of you curiously. 

“Hi, Melissa Stewart?” You asked, earning a nod in response. “I’m Agent Danvers, this is Agent Stark. If it’s alright, could we ask you a few questions about your son?” 

“Of course.” The woman nodded again, forcing a smile for the sake of strangers. “Come in, my wife is in the living room.” 

You and Dean carefully entered the house, following Melissa into the living room. There was another woman, with blonde hair and a kind smile, clutching a photograph protectively in her hand. Melissa introduced her to the both of you as her wife, Laura. After you had taken a seat on the couch opposite them, Laura held out the photo towards you. You smiled at her sympathetically, and gently took it from her hands. You looked down at the picture with a sad smile on your face. A smiling 14 year old boy looked back at you, their son Evan. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” You said, watching as both woman fought back tears. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through.” 

“Do you have any children?” Melissa asked you with a kind smile. You shook your head, politely handing the photo back to her. 

“No, I don’t. Maybe someday.” You sighed. Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Dean’s eyes flicker onto you for only a moment before he cleared his throat. 

“We have to ask you some questions, so we can find out who did this.” Dean started, his voice more calm than its usual gruffness. “Before your son.. died.. did you two see or hear anything out of the ordinary? Maybe someone strange lingering around the neighborhood? Someone you haven’t seen before?” 

“There is this one man.” Laura started, an almost visible lightbulb above her head. “Edgar Peterson. He just moved in down the street, into this run down house that hadn’t been lived in for years. We don’t know much about him. Sometimes I would look out our front window and he’d be standing on the sidewalk, staring in. It was very strange.” 

“Where did you say this man lives?” Dean asked in response. It was clear to the both of you that Edgar was a prime suspect. 

“About 5 houses down from us, on the other side of the street.” Laura confirmed, Dean glancing at you momentarily. 

“This is the second time we’ve been questioned, by the FBI nonetheless. I can’t believe we didn’t think of him, Laura.” Melissa said, her eyebrows furrowing, and your eyes widening. 

“Who else has been here?” You asked curiously, your head subconsciously tilting slightly to the side.

“A nice young man, an FBI agent like you guys. His name was Conor, I believe. Shorter than Agent Stark here, dark hair, brown eyes. He was asking us the same questions you are.” 

You scoffed. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

-

After your impromptu word vomit, you thanked the couple and promptly left their home, heading back to the Impala. Dean followed you wordlessly, and didn’t ask any questions on the drive back to Angie’s place. It was already lunch time, and you figured you’d head back and update Angie on your findings. You tugged on a loose thread of your jeans, your hands clamming up as your mind went haywire. Why did Conor have to pick the exact same case? Did Angie know there was another hunter in town? Why couldn’t you catch a break? 

Once Dean pulled up in front of the now familiar Victorian home, you tossed the door open and shut it behind you. You made your way up the front steps, but headed to the left side of the wrap around porch instead of going inside. You sat down on the swing seat, your arms folded over your chest, rocking gently, and staring at a large tree across the road. It was only a minute before you heard Dean’s familiar and heavy footsteps making their way around the corner. You looked up at him for a second, before averting your gaze back to the tree. He sat down carefully next to you, so that the swing wouldn’t make too much movement. His arm brushed against yours, and you sighed in exhaustion. 

“Who is Conor?” Dean finally asked, his jaw clenching momentarily, his eyes solely on you. 

“I met him a while before you and Sam. We became friends, and we hunted together for a little while.” You started, uncrossing your arms and resting them on your thighs. “I had a crush on him, but looking back now, I think it was just because I was lonely. Anyway.. one random night, he kissed me, and I... ended up sleeping with him. About a week later he just up and left, and told me the only reason he slept with me is because he felt sorry for me. That nobody else would ever want me, and I should be thankful that he even gave me a second glance.” 

“Well.. I say we go find this douchebag so I can hit him where it hurts.” Dean started, moving to stand up from his seat. You reacted instantly, swinging your arm across his chest so that he didn’t move. 

“Dean, it doesn’t matter. It happened, it’s over with.” You responded with a shake of the head, moving your arm away from him once you were sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

“It matters, Y/N.” Dean all but growled, his fists visibly clenching. “He used you, and made you feel like crap. He deserves a slow and painful death.”

“Dean.” You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to be able to change his mind. When he was set on something, there was no stopping him. “We should tell Angie about that Edgar guy. Then, as much as I don’t want to; we’re gonna have to find and talk to Conor, see what he knows. And Dean, please don’t do anything in haste.” 

“No promises, sweetheart.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Language, Violence

After your revelation about your ex-fling, you and Dean headed back inside to find Angie in the parlor. She had a map of Lawrence and the surrounding areas sprawled out on a large table, holding her hands above it in concentration. Her eyes were clenched shut, and she was humming gently. After a minute, Angie’s eyes flung open as she sighed in annoyance. She looked up to see you and Dean standing awkwardly in the doorway, and ushered you both inside. You walked up next to her, and took a glancing look at the map. There were a few drops of blood scattered about, seemingly from her failed attempts at tracking her books. 

“You find anything out, peaches?” Angie asked you, resting a hand calmly on your back. 

“Yeah. The Stewarts said some guy named Edgar moved in down the street from them, and days before their son died they noticed him peeking in their windows.” You explained, the older woman’s face scrunching up in wonder. “That’s the only viable lead we have so far.” 

Angie visibly stalled, turning to face you with a gasp. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of him. He walks up and down the streets at night, so strange.” She paused. “I’m coming with you two when you interrogate him.”

“Did you know there was another hunter in town, Angie?” Dean suddenly asked, her head shooting towards him questioningly. 

“No I didn’t, handsome.” Angie responded, looking back at you in curiosity. “I called Y/N as soon as I heard about the murders and realized my books were gone. I haven’t seen anyone else. Why? Something wrong, peaches?” 

You shook your head, forcing a small smile on your lips. “Um.. everything’s ok. Me and Dean have something to do, then we’ll come back and we can all go see this creepy Edgar guy, ok?” 

With a nod from Angie, you said goodbye and headed outside, back to Baby for the second time that day. Dean reached the car before you, opening the passengers side door for you with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. You slipped inside, the green eyed Winchester shutting the door for you as he rounded the car to slide into the drivers seat. 

“Maybe we can try the police station.” You suggested thoughtfully, flicking your pointer finger off of your leg as means of a physical distraction. “He might’ve went there, we can ask.” 

Dean only hummed in response, starting the engine and pulling away from Angie’s house in silence. You kept your eyes forward on the road ahead of you, while your thumb and pointer finger on your left hand started to twitch. You thought about reaching for Dean’s hand, but one glance told you that you shouldn’t. He had both hands latched tightly onto the wheel, and you knew he was angry by the way his jaw clenched and his eyes couldn’t seem to stay looking in one place. You hoped that he wasn’t angry with you, since you knew there was no reason for him to be. The more you thought, the more you realized that Conor was very likely the source of his anger. Your mind began to stray, and before you knew it, Dean had pulled up in front of the Lawrence police station. 

“Why don’t you go inside, ask anyone if they’ve seen this jackass? I’ll be right inside.” Dean suggested, motioning towards the bustling building. 

You simply nodded, stepping out from the Impala and gently closing the door behind you. With a deep sigh, you straightened out your shirt, and marched into the station with a fierce determination. There were a few officers standing by the window, all with a styrofoam cup of hot coffee in their hands. An older woman with coke bottle glasses sat at one of the desks, seemingly dozing off behind her computer. At your entrance, a few pairs of eyes landed on you in intrigue. You made your way to the group of middle aged men by the window, and offered them up a polite smile. 

“Hi, I’m Agent Danvers.” You greeted, briefly flashing your fake FBI badge to them before stashing it back in your pocket. “I was wondering if you’ve seen someone. Another agent, maybe he’s come in here? His name is Conor, he’s about 5’7, dark hair, brown eyes?” 

“Oh yeah, he’s been here. Still here, actually.” An old man with a tag reading ‘Officer Woods’ responded, looking you up and down uncomfortably. “What do I get in return for helping you out?” 

You fought the urge to vomit all over him. “Well if I wasn’t doing my job Officer Woods, you’d get a punch in the face.” His face dropped, causing you to smile. “Tell me where he is and I’ll be on my way.” 

“He’s in the interrogation room, over there.” The Officer responded with a scowl, pointing towards a room behind you. 

You smirked in response, uttering a meaningless thank you, and made your way to the room. Once you reached the door, you held your breath as your hand landed on the doorknob. You released your anxious breath as you pushed the door open, and stepped inside. Conor was there, sat at the table, a laptop in front of him and a book beside him. He didn’t seem to notice you, so you cleared your throat loud enough for him to hear. His head shot up, looking at you confusedly, before realizing who you were, and grinned slyly. 

“Well this is a small world, isn’t it?” Conor asked, slamming the laptop shut in front of him. He scooted his chair back, and stood up from the desk.

“Why are you here?” You practically growled, your teeth involuntarily gritting together. 

“I’m a hunter. This is a case, duh.” Conor responded with a roll of his eyes as if you were the the dumbest person he’d ever encountered. “I could ask you the same thing, then.” 

“It involves my friend.” You responded, your mind scrutinizing his every move. “She asked me to help, and I am. Me and another friend.”

“Well maybe you and your ‘friend’ should leave this one to the professionals.” Conor scoffed as you made your way around the table towards him. “Is it another guy? You probably moved right on to the next guy that gave you the time of day and latched yourself right to him, right? You always were a desperate little bitch.” 

Your eyes were focused on Conor with so much intent that you never heard the door open and slam shut. A pair of heavy footsteps could be heard before Dean came into your line of vision. He grabbed Conor by the collar of his shirt, and forcefully slammed him against the concrete wall. You winced as his head roughly slammed off of it, Dean’s six foot frame intimidatingly towering over him. Your eyes shifted back to the door, hoping that nobody had heard the commotion. The last thing you needed was for Dean to be arrested for assault and battery. 

“Dean-“ You stepped forward to try and capture his attention, but it was to no avail. 

“Wait, Y/N.” Dean barked at you, your face falling as you stepped back to your original position. He looked down at Conor with a face full of disgust and rage. “I’m not a big fan of you, buddy. We’re here to find out what you know, then we’re leaving. You talk to her only when she asks you a question, and you don’t go anywhere near her. Are we clear?” 

It was silent for what seemed like forever until Conor started to manically laugh. You watched in confusion as he wiped tears from his eyes and threw his head back in laughter. You thought that maybe Dean had roughed him up a bit too hard, and that he was slowly losing his mind. Conor looked from Dean, back to you and continued to laugh. He pointed to the older Winchester, his eyes on yours. 

“Dean Winchester is the ‘friend’ you’re hunting with?” Conor chuckled, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. You wondered how he knew him, but then again, you figured the entire hunting community knew of the Winchester’s. “Why her, man? Did she pay you?” 

“You’re five seconds away from getting your face rearranged.” Dean growled in warning, Conor’s face slightly falling at the threat. 

“Dean, that’s enough.” You finally shouted, causing his grip on Conor to loosen. 

Dean let go of his shirt, giving him one last shove before making his way to you. You could still see a burning rage in his eyes, and you hoped he wouldn’t burst again. You anxiously glanced at the door once again, hoping that nobody had picked up on the commotion. When you turned back around, Conor was slumped back in the chair in front of the desk. He looked disheveled, annoyed, and scared, presumably of the furious man standing beside you. Dean watched him with a locked jaw and a hardened gaze. 

“What have you found out?” You asked Conor in a calm tone of voice, hoping to dispel the tension in the air. “Anything useful?” 

“Just that a bunch of kids and married women are getting murdered.” Conor responded with a shake of his head, refusing to meet your gaze. 

“Great. So.. what we already know.” You responded with a roll of your eyes, folding your arms across your chest. “You can move on to another case, Conor. We can handle this.” 

Before you could make a move to escape the room, Conor softly calling your name stopped you. Dean stiffened, standing in between the two of you protectively. You stepped to the side, just enough that you could see Conor’s crestfallen expression. He looked between the two of you for a minute, before definitively landing his gaze onto you. 

“I’m sorry-“ 

“Are you, Conor?” You barked out, pushing Dean to the side and stepping up to the man in question. “Are you sorry because you’re sorry or because you feel like you have to be?” 

When he didn’t respond, you scoffed, your eyes burning with the threat of tears. “That was really shitty what you did to me, and no half ass apology is going to change that. I’m walking out of here, and you’re gonna leave this town and find somewhere else to hunt. And excuse my language, but you can go fuck yourself.”

You didn’t wait for a response, and turned around, brushing by Dean and leaving the room, slamming the door shut behind you. The overbearing sounds of keyboards clicking and bellowing laughter made you walk faster. You walked by everyone without a second glance, and pushed open the front doors of the police station. The fresh air on your skin felt nice, and you took a deep breath once you were completely outside. You looked to the left and then to the right, finding Baby in the crowded parking lot and making your way towards her. 

With an exhausted sigh, you leaned against the Impala with your ankles crossed. You tapped your fingers rhythmically against the cool surface of Baby while watching your surroundings. There was a park across the street from the police station, where a handful of families were spending the sunny day. You watched a young girl with blonde hair laughing gleefully as her mother pushed her on the metal swings. A small smile creeped onto your face, and you found yourself missing your mother once again. You were robbed of more moments like that with her, and you knew you’d give anything to have her back. 

You faintly heard Dean’s steady footsteps approaching you, and turned your head to find him walking towards you. He watched you hesitantly, and moved next to you to lean against the side of Baby. You looked over at him and saw him clenching his fist and gritting his teeth together. A sudden shock of realization rushed through you. You reached out, and gently pulled his fist apart with your own hands. His knuckles were visibly bruised, with a few small drops of blood present on them. You shook your head with a small scoff, gently running your fingers over his knuckles. 

“Somehow, I’m not surprised.” You rolled your eyes, although a small smile graced your lips. He was very overprotective, but you appreciated it. 

“He deserved it.” Dean responded, mirroring your smile. “My favorite part was when you told him to go fuck himself.” 

“He deserved it.” You echoed him, your eyes meeting his as you both burst into laughter. Once your laughter ceased, you smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, Dean. Nobody’s ever really stuck up for me like that before.” 

You held your breath as Dean intertwined his hand with yours. He lifted your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the top of it. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” 

-

Later that day, you, Dean, and Angie stood side by side in front of the large but run down home in Angie’s neighborhood. There was moss growing on the outside, boards nailed on to the gaps where the windows once were, and the grass on the front lawn was overgrown. The only visual evidence that somebody lived there was the white truck parked in the driveway. You were nervous about going anywhere near the house, but Edgar Peterson was the only viable lead you had. Angie didn’t hesitate to knock on the front door with a fierce intent. You subconsciously stood closer to Dean, his arm wrapping around you protectively. 

The door slowly opened inch by inch a minute or so later. You could just barely see the man, but as he opened the door completely, you could clearly see him. Edgar was an older man, presumably in his 50s or 60s. His eyes were drooping, his cheeks were sunken in, and he looked overwhelmingly exhausted. Dean became on high alert at the strange man, and instinctively pulled you closer against him. You watched as Edgar looked over all three of you, and you noticed his eyes lingering on the arm that Dean had wrapped around you. Angie stepped forward slightly, clearing her throat. 

“Hello, Mr. Peterson. I’m Angie Turner, I live down the street. These are my good friends Dean and Y/N.” Angie introduced, motioning towards the two of you. “I know you’re new to our neighborhood but we were wondering if you’ve seen or heard anything out of the ordinary? Some of my belongings have been stolen, and I’m sure you must have heard of the murders.” 

“No, ma’am. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Edgar responded shakily, refusing to let any of you inside his home. “If you’ll excuse me-“ 

“Wait.” You interrupted loudly, moving forward to grab a hold of the door that he was about to shut. He looked at you in question. “Are you all alone in this house?” 

Edgar didn’t respond coherently, and all you heard was a muffled ‘wife’ and ‘son.’ Your eyebrows furrowed as you felt Dean and Angie both step closer to you. 

“You have a wife and son?” You asked, trying to piece together what the delusional man was attempting to say. 

“I did.” Edgar responded, this time it was clearer than day.

“They’re dead.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None

After learning of Edgar’s morbid revelation of his dead wife and son, he harshly slammed the door in your faces. The three of you trudged back to Baby, your heart feeling sympathetic for the strange man. You knew how much it hurt to lose someone you loved. Once you reached the car, you all stood with your hands on the door handles. Your brain was working a mile a minute, until your eyes widened once you realized an important piece of information. Audibly gasping, you watched as both Dean and Angie turned to you in confusion. 

“Dean, do you remember what Conor said?” You didn’t wait for a response, and continued. “He said whoever or whatever this is is murdering married women and children. This guy lost his wife and son. Maybe he’s murdering these people, because he lost his family, he doesn’t want anyone else to have one too.” 

They both stared at you in shock before Dean grinned, a wide ear-to-ear grin of approval. “You might’ve just cracked the case, sweetheart.” 

“Well, I say we go back in there and ring this little thief dry until he fesses up.” Angie responded, her hands resting defiantly on his hips. 

“We can’t, Angie.” You responded, her face falling in response. “He’s already suspicious of us. We’re going back to your house and making a plan. Don’t argue, either of you.” 

“Since when did you become so dominant, peaches?” Angie asked, a subtle smirk on her face. 

“I like it.” Dean spoke three simple words with a teasing wink. Your face heated up instantly, as Angie laughed at your discomfort. You ignored both of them, and slid into the passengers seat with red cheeks and a small smile. 

-

“Y/N, you’re not doing this.” Dean’s gruff voice was filled to the brim with anger. “I mean it.” 

“Yes I am, Dean.” You responded, your stubbornness rising to the surface. You stood up from your chair and stepped closer to him. “I’ve done more dangerous things than this by myself long before I met you. Do you not trust me?” 

“Of course I do.” Dean responded, his jaw clenching tightly, a prominent sign that he was furious. 

“Then don’t argue with me, and let me do this.” 

Once you, Dean, and Angie had arrived back at the latter’s house, you all desperately tried to conceive a plan. After a few minutes of thinking to yourself, you created a plan in your mind that you then stuck to. You were going to go back to Edgar’s house, this time alone, and somehow make him invite you inside. You figured you’d talk to him about his wife and son, try to sympathize with him; and hoped that you’d be able to spot anything out of the ordinary, or even some familiar books lying around. Once you relayed your plan to Dean and Angie, you assured them that you’d have them on speed dial in case anything happened. Angie was hesitant about the plan, but ended up agreeing nonetheless. Dean was another story. 

“I do trust you, Y/N, but I’m still not gonna let you do this.” Dean responded, your eyes shifting to his fists clenched by his sides. “It’s stupid.” 

“Nice to know you think so highly of me, Dean.” You responded, your voice starting to become shaky as you held back tears. You were an emotional person, and it didn’t take much to make you snap. “I can do it by myself, and I will. I don’t give a shit what you say about it.” 

Before giving him a chance to respond, you eagerly fled the room and barreled up the stairs, slamming the door of your room shut behind you. You clicked the lock in place and flung yourself onto the bed. Frustrated tears streamed down your cheeks as you silently cried to yourself. In the back of your mind, you thought that you were overreacting, but Dean’s words really took a toll on you. You knew he was stubborn, but you didn’t expect him to practically call you stupid. You figured that the disappointment wouldn’t have hurt as much if you weren’t head over heels in love with him. 

Just as you were beginning to doze off, there was a timid knock on the door that jolted you awake. You burrowed yourself further into the blanket and listened as the doorknob jiggled. The loud sigh afterwards told you that it was undoubtedly Dean. It was silent for a minute, before you heard his footsteps trekking away from the door and down the hall. You sighed deeply, and closed your eyes again. You laid there for ten minutes, fifteen, twenty, thirty, one hour. Sleep didn’t seem to come to you, and the hours faded by as you stayed wide awake. It surprised you when you turned to see darkness outside the window, and a clock that read 1:00 am. 

You flung the blanket off of yourself, and headed to the door. Once you stepped in the dark hallway was when you finally realized what you were doing. It had become instinctual for you to make your way towards Dean. You were still angry with him, but it was an undeniable fact that you slept better when he was next to you. Your mind and body were overwhelmingly exhausted as you made your way to the end of the hall. Gulping harshly, you twisted the doorknob to find it unlocked. Pushing it open slightly, you were greeted by Dean leaning up on his elbow and watching you sleepily. The knot in your stomach tightened, and you almost turned around and left. 

Wordlessly, you shut the door behind you and made your way to the bed. You lifted the blanket up and climbed underneath, tucking it comfortably over you. As you lied in silence, you could feel Dean’s eyes on you, intensifying with every second that passed by. You subconsciously began to move closer to him, and in return, he wrapped an arm around your side to pull you closer. With a deep sigh, you laid your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes in content. You could already feel yourself starting to fall asleep, but there was still a feeling of ill will and doubt lingering in the air. 

“I’m still mad at you.” You mumbled defiantly, despite your current position. 

“I know, sweetheart.” Dean responded quietly, cradling you closer to him in response. “Go to sleep, we’ll talk about it in the morning.” 

You only nodded, too exhausted to argue with him over an issue that would still be there in the morning. Even though you were upset with him, that didn’t stop you from reveling in his close proximity and the comfort that it brought you. With no hesitation, you rested your head against the broad muscle of Dean’s shoulder, and felt yourself begin to doze off. You couldn’t help but think that it was where you felt like you belonged. The overwhelming fatigue made your mind hazy, and it just barely registered the kiss that he pressed on your head. It was enough to make you smile sheepishly, before sleep finally came. 

When you awoke hours later, there was an unmistakable sound of chirping birds right outside the window. The digital clock on the bedside table read 10:03am. Sunlight streamed in through the crack in the curtain, lighting up just a small portion of the darkness in the room. You vaguely remembered going to Dean in the middle of the night, and realized that it had actually happened when you felt his arm wrapped loosely around you. It wasn’t the position you fell asleep in, so you figured the both of you did a lot of moving around that night. You gently turned in his hold to lay on your back, resting his arm carefully by his side. 

It almost made you forget how angry you were with Dean when you caught a glimpse of his sleeping form. He looked peaceful, and you couldn’t help but smile. He had always been so stubborn, but you knew that you were too. Perhaps it’s why you matched so well with him, you were very much alike. You didn’t think you’d ever have his strength however, you don’t know how he always managed to rage on when everything around him was in shambles. 

Hoping Dean wouldn’t stir, you took your time to admire the man you loved; you rarely got the chance to be so close to him. His eyes were twitching behind his eyelids, assuring you that he was in a peaceful sleep. His chest was rising and falling steadily with each breath he took. The small speck of sunlight in the room allowed you to see the subtle freckles underneath his eyes, and the scruff on his face that you had come to love. You were so entranced with Dean, that you didn’t realize he had woken up until you heard his voice surrounding you. 

“Wanna take a picture?” Dean asked sleepily, the corner of his mouth lifting up into a teasing smirk. 

You rolled your eyes in response, fighting back the smile that was creeping it’s way up. Shuffling yourself slightly away from him, you sat up in the bed and pulled the blanket further on top of you. Dean followed suit, and neither of you dared to be the first one to start the impending conversation. You hoped a good night’s rest had pushed some sense into his stubborn mind, and that he’d have no qualms about your plan. However, you knew there was no instruction manual for fixing stubborn; it would always be there. 

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.” Dean mumbled, his just-woke-up voice both raspy and groggy. “And I don’t want to make you upset.” 

“You already did a good job at that.” You responded pointedly, pushing the blanket off of you and drumming your fingers on your leg. “I can be just as stubborn as you, y’know? I told you I‘m gonna do it whether you like or not, and I meant it.” 

You angrily pushed yourself off of the bed, your feet padding against the hardwood floor as you walked to the door. You had every intention of leaving, but the growl of your name that came from Dean’s mouth stopped you dead in your tracks. Turning around slowly, you were met with his towering frame only about a foot or so away from you. The eldest Winchester was definitely an intimidating man, even scary to some, but you weren’t scared; you knew he would never hurt you, at least not physically.

“I promise you, sweetheart, you don’t want to see how stubborn I can really be.” Dean drawled on, a nervous knot forming in your stomach in response. “We’ll make another plan. If you think you’re gonna go waltzing in there by yourself like some idiot, you’re wrong. You can’t do this alone.”

You shifted your gaze to the floor, and tried to push back the tears that were already on their way. Despite your better efforts, a few salty tears trailed down your cheeks. You attempted to discreetly wipe them away, hoping that Dean wouldn’t notice. When you looked back up to meet his gaze, his face fell, and you knew he could tell. You inhaled roughly, shaking your head in disappointment. 

“You know, Dean, people have been telling me my entire life that I’m useless, stupid, that I can’t do anything; and I believed it. My father made me feel that way, all those assholes at school, Conor; I never thought you’d make me feel like that, too.” You rambled out in a jumbled mess, your trembling voice giving everything away. 

By that point, your eyes were red and puffy, and tears were pouring from them. Without a second glance at the man in front of you, you turned around and left, slamming the door shut so harshly that it rattled the floorboards. You practically ran to your room, slamming it shut and locking it. With your back pressed against the wood, you lifted your arm to your mouth and cried loudly, attempting to muffle the sound. You slid down the door, burying your face in your knees and continuing to cry. Hearing Dean say something like that to you created a deep hole in your chest. You wanted so desperately to crawl into bed and wither away, but what you wanted more, was to prove him wrong. 

-

Later that day, you waited until there was complete silence in Angie’s home to make your move. You had heard numerous knocks on your door over the course of the morning, presumably both Angie and Dean trying to make their way in. Once it seemed calm enough, you got yourself dressed and presentable. You tiptoed out of your room, and made your way carefully down the creaky stairs, watching and listening for any movement. In the parlor, you swiped Angie’s car keys off of the table and made your way quietly out of the house. You didn’t look behind you as you got into Angie’s car, and started on your way to Edgar’s house. 

You pulled up in front of the run down home, your hand slightly shaking as you retracted the key from the ignition. You hoped Angie would forgive you for borrowing her car without asking. Resting your forehead against the ice cold steering wheel, you contemplated just exactly what you were doing. It would be a foolish thing to do for a newbie, perhaps; but you were a well endowed hunter with many years under your belt. Dean was wrong to doubt you, you knew what you were doing, and you were going to prove it to both yourself and him. With a renowned confidence, you pocketed the car keys in your pocket and stepped out.

Taking a careful glance at the broken down house, the only thing that comforted you was the feeling of the gun lodged in your boot. You had also planted a knife in the interior pocket of your jacket. Once you checked yourself over, you nodded curtly to yourself and made your way up to the door. Edgar’s truck was still parked in the same spot in the driveway, so you knew that he was home. You knocked sharply on the front door before you had the chance to talk yourself out of it. When the door whipped open harshly, you flinched slightly and subconsciously took a small step back. Edgar was there, with a curious scowl on his face. 

“Hi, Mr. Peterson. Do you remember me from yesterday?” He nodded shortly, still watching you with curiosity. 

“Do you mind if I come in and talk, just the two of us?” You questioned softly, pushing a friendly smile to your lips. 

“I’ve got things to do, girl.” Edgar grumbled in response, pulling back from the doorway hesitantly. 

“Please, Mr. Peterson. Just a few moments of your time.” You pleaded, attempting your best smile and doe eyes. “I’m a therapist, I know what you’re going through. I know what it’s like to lose loved ones.” 

He looked you over momentarily before nodding, and stepping aside to let you in. A wave of both relief and nervousness washed over you as you carefully stepped into the moldy and deteriorating house. You waited patiently as Edgar shut the door behind you, motioning for you to follow him. He led you to a small room, perhaps a living room; with a fireplace that most likely didn’t work, a bookcase, and one couch. You stood politely, not wanting to sit on the dirt and grime of his furniture, and watched as he walked out of the room. You waited for a minute, and once you were sure he was gone, you began your snooping. 

First, you took a glance around the room from where you stood. Once you were convinced that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, you moved quietly towards the bookcase. You glanced behind you to make sure that he was still gone, and started to skim through the books one by one. You daintily touched each one as you read the names on the spines. There was a bible, a few romance novels, and one in particular that caught your eye. Furrowing your eyebrows, you gently pulled the book from it’s place and gasped once you had it in your hands. You opened the book, and there on the inside cover, was a neat handwriting with the initials ‘A.T.’ 

You were just barely able to process the fact that you had been right, before you heard the dreadful noise of the click of a gun. Cold metal was pressed against the back of your head, and you winced in guilt at how careless you had been. The weight of the gun in your boot and the knife in your jacket suddenly became very heavy. However, you knew there was no way you’d be able to get either weapons free without Edgar noticing. You were suddenly terrified, and you didn’t have time to think that Dean had been right, due to the cackling in your ear. 

“You think I didn’t know who you are, girl?” Edgar chuckled venomously, your eyes widening in response. 

“Let’s see how much your precious friend and boyfriend actually care about you.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence, Near Character Death

Your muscles ached, and your head was pounding in agony when you finally had the strength to peel your eyes open. With a muffled and frustrated groan, you realized that Edgar had gotten the upper hand and knocked you out. A pang of fear rushed through you at the discovery of the duct tape on your mouth. Once your eyes adjusted to your surroundings, you saw that you were now in a vile and dark basement. You had been placed in an uncomfortably creaky chair, with your wrists and ankles bound to it. You screamed in frustration when you realized that both your gun and your knife were gone. 

For what felt like hours, all you could do was sit there and wait. You knew it would get you nowhere, so with a fierce determination, you attempted to wiggle an arm free of the rope that bound you. The attempt was unsuccessful, and only procured a painful rope burn on your wrist. You let your head fall back in disappointment and exhaustion. After another few minutes of silence, you started to wiggle both your feet and your arms simultaneously. You whimpered behind the duct tape at the sharp jabs of the rope on your skin. Once it became clear that your efforts were complete useless, you started to cry. Steady tears fell from your eyes and flowed down your cheeks. 

After a few silent minutes of sobbing, you started to hear noises. It started out as footsteps, and then turned into voices. You heard Edgar’s voice loud and clear, and then another muffled one that you couldn’t quite make out. You perked your ears up the best you could, and almost fainted from glee when you realized that the other voice was Dean. You knew he would figure out that you were there, and he would know that you still were since Angie’s car was out front. You had no doubt that Dean could get past Edgar, but you somehow needed to let him know where you were. 

You attempted wiggling a hand free once again, and screamed behind your restraint when the sharp rope started to draw blood. It took a few minutes of agony for you to finally break your wrist free. Blood was slowly dripping from the wound, but you ignored it in anticipation of getting free. With no hesitation, you reached your free hand to your mouth and ripped the duct tape off like a band aid. You cleared your dry throat and coughed a few times, before finally getting your voice back.

“Dean!” You shouted his name as loud as you could, with no doubt that he had heard you. 

At your plea of his name, you then heard many crashes and slams against the hard walls. You listened for another minute before starting to work on your other hand. There was a lot of blood coming from the wound on your wrist, and you started to feel slightly light headed. You stopped to catch your breath for a minute, utterly exhausted. The basement door suddenly whipped open, and you could make out the outline of a tall but familiar figure in the doorway. Your heart skipped a beat and all feelings of fear and agony escaped you. 

“Dean.” You whispered his name, a beaming smile on your face. 

He walked towards you hastily, kneeling down in front of the chair you were still bound to. You watched intently as Dean held your face in his hands, the rough texture of his hands feeling nothing but comforting. There were a few cuts on his face, and his knuckles were bloody. Your eyes clamped shut involuntarily at the feeling of his skin on yours, a few tears of relief seeping out. Once you opened your eyes again, his emerald ones were staring directly at yours. You shook your head with a sad smile, your jaw beginning to quiver. 

“I’m so sorry, Dean.” You sobbed quietly. “I should’ve listened to you.” 

“It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s ok. I’m so sorry for what I said, too.” Dean responded softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Lets get the hell out of here.” 

He started with your legs, effortlessly freeing them in under a minute. Once Dean reached your hands, his eyes widened at the blood oozing from your wrist. He quickly freed your other arm, and shrugged off the flannel he was wearing over his black t shirt. With little effort, Dean shredded the thin material in his hands. He took a small piece of the fabric, and wrapped it tightly around your wrist, shooting you an apologetic look when you winced in response. Once you were completely freed from your confines, Dean moved to help you stand. Your legs were slightly shaking, and you gently held onto him for support. 

Your eyes shot towards the basement door when you once again heard the sound of a gun clicking. Dean instantly pushed you behind him, shielding you with his body. Over his shoulder, you saw Edgar standing in the doorway with a gun pointed in your direction. His right eye was swollen, blood pouring from his mouth, his injuries were undoubtedly Dean’s doing. The whole scenario was different than anything you had ever encountered before. It was obvious that Edgar was the culprit, but you hadn’t seen any signs that he was anything but human. You knew exactly how to deal with monsters, but with an average human like you? You had no idea, except for getting out alive. 

“Feels good to have someone care about you, doesn’t it?” Edgar said with a laugh, staring directly at you over Dean’s shoulder. “I had that. I had a beautiful wife, I had the best son in the entire world. They were taken from me. Wanna know how? A witch.” 

Your eyes widened in realization, the bits and pieces of the situation suddenly falling in line with one another. You had been right. This wasn’t a typical monster case, this was a man who had lost his family, and was hitting rock bottom. A witch had murdered Edgar’s wife and son, procuring an adamant distaste of witches. He stole Angie’s spellbooks, and then used them to murder wives and sons. Your heart broke for the man in front of you, but it still didn’t repeal the fact that he had murdered innocent people in spite of his own grief. 

“You told me that you know what it’s like to lose someone you love.” Edgar continued, still watching you with a strange intensity. “But have you watched the love of your life and your only child murdered right in front of your eyes?” 

“You don’t have to do this, Edgar.” You pleaded, your voice shaking in both fear and empathy. You tried to step forward, but Dean wouldn’t let you move. “We can get you help. You don’t have to hurt anyone else.” 

“I don’t need help!” Edgar shouted, your hands instinctively grabbing onto Dean’s arm; you were surprised he was remaining so calm. “I need my family. If I can’t have mine, why should anyone else?”

Just as the sound of a gun firing echoed around the room, Dean jolted forward in front of you. You screamed out in pure terror before Edgar suddenly started to convulse. The gun fell from his hand and he dropped to the floor, convulsing until he no longer moved. Edgar was dead. Another figure emerged in the doorway, revealing itself to be Angie. She had her spellbooks in her hands, and it became obvious that she had killed the old man herself. You spared her a small glance of gratefulness before your eyes shifted to Dean on the ground a few feet from the old man. 

“Oh my god. No, no, Dean!” You cried, dropping to your knees beside him. Angie followed suit on the other side of his body. 

He was conscious, but there was blood gushing from a wound on his abdomen. You pulled his shirt up as gently as you could, seeing a gaping bullet wound staring back at you. Dean was losing a lot of blood at a rapid rate, and you found yourself feeling helpless. In a moment of instinct, you ripped the piece of fabric from your wrist and pressed it onto the wound. He winced in response, but you knew how desperately you needed to stop the bleeding. 

“Angie, is there any way you can help him? He won’t make it to a hospital.” You asked with shaky breaths, making sure that Dean stayed conscious. 

“I’m sorry, peaches.” Angie responded softly, your eyes clenching shut in an attempt to will the tears away. “My kind of magic doesn’t interfere with life and death.” 

It was at that moment that you started sobbing so loud that you were sure it would wake Edgar’s dead body. You couldn’t let Dean die, especially for saving your life. You wouldn’t live without him, you couldn’t live without him. As if a lightbulb went off in your head, you found yourself thinking of Cas. You started to pray in your head, hoping that he could hear you. When you received no response, you held tightly onto Dean’s hand and prayed out loud. 

“Cas.” You called his name firmly, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t know where you are, but I really need you right now. Please. I can’t do this, Cas.” 

The familiar touch on your shoulder had you gasping in relief. You looked up to see Castiel standing above you, looking at Dean with a crestfallen expression. The angel instantly understood when he saw your bloody hand pressing on Dean’s abdomen. Wordlessly, he kneeled down and gingerly moved your hand away from the wound. You moved closer to Angie, her arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. Castiel placed his hand over the bullet wound, a faint glow emitting around it as he did so. You felt Angie rubbing small circles on your back as you waited with bated breath. 

Dean took a small gasp of air, as if he suddenly regained consciousness. He was wide awake and on high alert, turning to look at you in relief. You released yourself from Angie’s hold and moved closer to Dean. Castiel moved away as the older Winchester attempted to sit up on the concrete floor. He did so with a wince, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered. 

“Is he gonna be ok, Cas?” You questioned the angel, earning a nod in response. 

“He’ll be fine.” Castiel responded with a sad smile. “It’s a good thing you prayed to me when you did. Any longer would’ve proved fatal.” 

“Are you ok, Y/N?” Dean’s hoarse voice suddenly broke the tension, your eyes widening in response. 

“Am I ok?” You repeated his question incredulously, chuckling with a small shake of your head. “You just took a bullet for me and you’re asking me if I’m ok?” 

“I’d take a thousand bullets for you, sweetheart.” Dean responded with a smile, causing your heart to swell with adoration. 

Without hesitation, you didn’t mind the others in the room as you threw yourself into Dean’s embrace. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, his head resting on your shoulder. You heard him wince at the pain of the contact, but he nevertheless tightened his hold on you. In that moment, you debated on uttering those three words that you had felt for a long time, but you decided that it was better not to. You just sat there, in Dean’s embrace, grateful that he was alive and breathing. The only thing on your mind was; how the hell were you going to explain this to Sam? 

-

“Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer?” Angie asked, a small pout gracing her features. 

“I’m sorry, Angie. Me and Dean really need to get home. He’s still not one hundred percent better.” You reasoned with her, granting her a small smile in return. 

Angie sighed a deep sigh, but nodded anyway. She looked behind you to glance at Dean leaning against the Impala in front of her house. You were on the front porch of her home, saying your inevitable goodbyes. You were grateful to have a friend like Angie, she had been a bright light in one of the many dark times of your life. She had become family, and you knew you wouldn’t be the same person without her. It hurt like hell to leave her, but with her now living only a few hours away, you’d be able to visit her whenever you wanted. 

“Don’t be afraid to tell him how you feel, peaches.” Angie suddenly said, her hazel brown eyes boring into yours. “That was a close call yesterday. He could’ve died. How would you feel knowing you never told him?” 

“I know, Angie.” You responded with a deep and thorough exhale. “I will eventually, I promise.” 

At your response, she leaned forward and wrapped you in a large embrace. You returned it happily, breathing in her familiar scent of tangerines and beignets. Angie had become the closest thing to a mother that you’d ever had after you lost your own. She had always been by your side, physically or metaphorically, ever since you met her. She gave you both strength and confidence to keep going, and you would be forever grateful for it. You didn’t know where you would be without her. 

“Stay safe, peaches.” Angie muttered in your ear, pressing a small kiss to your cheek. “Don’t be a stranger either. Come visit me every now and then, and one more thing; I’d like an invite to the wedding.” 

“Angie!” You shouted her name once you pulled back from the hug, your cheeks flaming up in embarrassment. “Stop teasing.” 

“Oh give it a rest, honey.” Angie responded with a heavenly giggle, rolling her eyes in amusement. “You’re gonna be Mrs. Winchester someday, don’t argue with me. I know what I’m talking about.” 

You shook your head in disbelief, smiling at your friend. “Bye, Angie.” 

“Bye, peaches. Thank you for your help.” 

Once you had given Angie one last hug, you made your way towards Baby and Dean. He gave the older woman a small wave before beginning to make his way towards the drivers seat. You held your hand out, halting his movement. He looked down at you in confusion. 

“Are you ok to drive, Dean?” You asked him in the utmost concern. “It’s only a few hours, I can drive if you’re still hurting. I’ll be delicate, I promise.” 

“Sure, sweetheart.” Dean responded instantly, much to your surprise. “I’m a little tired, I don’t sleep well when you’re not next to me.” 

You did your best to ignore the feeling inside your stomach, and tried to hide your rosey red cheeks as you slipped into the drivers seat. It felt different to be there, but you liked it, and you felt honored. Dean didn’t like anyone else to drive his Baby; he even had a hard time allowing Sam the privilege. If Dean Winchester allowed you to drive his most prized possession, then it meant that he really trusted you. You felt glad to know that, because you trusted him just the same. Dean wasn’t necessarily an open book, but he was loyal to those that were loyal to him. 

“Before we go, I want to show you something.” Dean suddenly said once he was settled in the passengers seat. 

You didn’t ask any questions, and simply nodded your head as he directed you on which way to go. Baby purred underneath you as you drove her like a pro, finding the task both enjoyable and rewarding. After a few minutes of lefts and rights, Dean signaled you to stop in front of a specific house. It was a normal enough looking two story home, and the way Dean looked upon it made you realize exactly where you were. Once again, you felt honored; honored that he wanted to show you something that important to his life. 

“Stood right out there on the front lawn with Sammy in my arms.” Dean reminisced on the horrid day of his mother’s passing. You listened intently and respectfully. “I swore to myself I’d never come back here, but me and Sam had to. The family that moved in here were being haunted. Had to come back to take care of the ghouls.” 

After a few minutes of silence, you reached out to rest a hand gently on his arm. “Thank you for showing me, Dean, and trusting me enough to.” 

Dean smiled in response, one so genuine that you wished it could always stay. It was pure and unadulterated, and you found yourself smiling in return just the same. 

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for 1,000 hits and all the lovely comments!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some Violence, Slight Gore

When you pulled into the familiarity of the bunker’s garage three hours later, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief. You were more than elated to be home, and the way Dean lept out of the Impala told you that he felt the same. You weren’t sure how he was feeling, with his wound still healing for the most part, but you knew he always preferred to conceal his pain. He hustled his way over to the steps and made his way down into the bunker, faintly calling Sam’s name. You shook your head with a smile, you couldn’t help but love the Winchester’s. You were just glad that they had let you into their small family all those years ago. 

Once you had grabbed both yours and Dean’s bags out of the backseat, you gently closed the door behind you and headed down into the bunker. You heard a faint chatter as you made your way towards the war room, lugging two large bags the whole way there. As soon as you reached the room, you dropped both bags onto the floor in front of you. Dean was sat in one of the chairs, and Sam was watching you curiously. The younger Winchester chuckled at the sight before moving towards you to pick up Dean’s heavy bag, but not before giving you a large hug in welcoming. 

“That’s ok, Dean, I got the bags.” You said sarcastically, rolling your eyes as he shrugged sheepishly. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’m injured.” Dean responded with a small smirk, causing you to smile timidly. 

“So...” Sam drawled on, looking between his brother and you in curiosity. “How did it go?” 

“Well remember how you told me not to let him do anything stupid?” Earning a nod in response, you continued. “Well, we both kind of did something stupid.” 

“I didn’t do anything stupid, sweetheart.” Dean butted in, your focus then shifting away from Sam and onto him. 

“You jumped in front of a firing gun, Dean.” You exclaimed with emphasis, seeing Sam’s eyes widen in your peripheral vision. “That’s stupid.” 

“He was aiming for you, Y/N.” Dean responded, a timid growl hidden behind his voice. “I wasn’t about to stand there and let you get shot.” 

You didn’t respond to him after that, as an overwhelming sense of guilt washed over you. It was your decision to go back to Edgar’s house by yourself. Your decision led Dean there, and got him shot. He almost died because of your stubbornness and irrationality. The thought burrowed itself deep inside your mind that if you had lost him that day, it would’ve been your own fault. You stood there awkwardly, exchanging your weight from one foot to the other as you battled your own mind. Dean was still staring you down like you had taken his last piece of pie, and Sam was watching the scene unfold with an expression you couldn’t seem to pinpoint. 

“Alright, well.” Sam cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence lingering in the air. “Dean, maybe you should go lie down for a while. Make sure you don’t strain yourself too much.” 

Dean only huffed out a quiet ‘sure’ in response before steadily lifting himself from the chair. You and Sam were both at the ready to help him if he needed, but he was adamant on getting there himself. The only physical sign of strain was the way his chest heaved as he made his way by the both of you to go to his room. You turned slightly and watched Dean walk away with a sigh. That trip had proved to be a lot more eventful than you could have ever imagined. You were distraught over the fact that it had ended on such a sour note. You only hoped you could work up the courage to apologize to Dean before it was too late.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam suddenly said, causing you to jump slightly in shock. You hadn’t realized you were still staring in the direction that Dean had left. 

“I’m a horrible person.” You started with, holding a hand up at the first sign of Sam’s vocal protest. “I made a foolish decision and went in to a dangerous situation by myself. Dean told me not to, and I didn’t listen. I let my guard down, and next thing I know, I’m tied to a chair in a dusty basement. Dean knew I’d be there, and he eventually came. He got me out, but got shot in the process. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have been there in that situation. It’s all my fault.” 

“Y/N, it’s ok. We’re hunters, but we’re human, we make mistakes sometimes.” Sam consoled you, gently resting a hand on your back in comfort. 

“He almost died, Sam.” You continued, looking up at the younger Winchester with glassy eyes and a quivering jaw. “He was lying there, almost unconscious. There was blood all over my hands and all I could think about was that I couldn’t lose him; and if he died, it’d be my fault. I prayed to Castiel, and he came, but if he hadn’t.....” 

Sam didn’t respond, at least not verbally. He maneuvered the arm on your back to wrap around you, and pull you into a comforting embrace. It wasn’t like the ones you shared with Dean, it was familial and warm. The younger Winchester had become your best friend, almost like a brother. You hoped he wouldn’t be angry with you for almost getting his brother killed, but Sam Winchester was undoubtedly a very sweet and understanding man. That proved to be true as he hugged you comfortingly, whispering a faint ‘It’s ok’ as you silently cried out your guilt and shame. After the tears had subsided, you pulled back and frantically wiped away any evidence off of your face. 

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Sam suddenly asked, and your eyes locked with his as you instantly understood what he had meant. 

“No.” You shook your head, your hands nervously twitching. “I’ve never felt this before. I don’t know how, and I’m nervous.” 

“I get it.” Sam nodded, leaning his tall frame back against the table behind him. “But if he had... died then... how would you have felt knowing that you never told him?”

It was an ironic question, since Angie had asked you the exact same thing before you left. You’d had some time to think about it, and you finally realized the answer. 

“I’d feel broken.” You responded shakily, attempting to ward off any further tears. “We’re hunters, Sam, we’ll never be safe. Hell, you two have both already died before. I’m never gonna get to have a normal life. I didn’t even have a childhood. I didn’t go to college, I wanted to get married and have children and a normalcy like that is impossible for us. I’m scared to tell him, because if I don’t, then I won’t be as disappointed when something separates us again.” 

“Well if you ask me...” Sam continued, folding his arms over his chest and looking at you pointedly. “I’d say you deserve happiness, whether it be momentary or for a lifetime. It’s doing you both more harm to pretend like you’re not in love with each other.” 

“He’s doesn’t love me, Sam.” You scoffed, shaking your head in disappointment. “If even my own flesh and blood didn’t love me, why should anybody else?” 

“You’re my best friend, Y/N. I love you like family.” Sam continued, pushing himself off of the table and stepping towards you. “Your friend Angie loves you, Cas loves you, Charlie loves you, Jody, Donna, Claire; but nobody loves you more than Dean.” 

“I find that hard to believe.” 

“You guys really are a perfect match, you’re both stubborn as hell.” 

-

_A loud scream of anguish and fear escaped your lips as you stared at him in utter disbelief. He watched you with a devious smile, blood coating his hands and forearms. When you looked down to his feet, you realized that the blood didn’t belong to him. Dean was lying on the hardwood floor, his eyes closed, and a knife lodged directly into his chest. Even from your place across the room, you could tell that he wasn’t breathing. You almost fell to your knees in desperation, but remained upright in preparation for retaliation and revenge. Your father stared back at you, a look of twisted achievement on his face. _

_“Now you have no one.” He taunted, waving his blood coated hand at you. “I bet it hurts, doesn’t it? Losing someone you loved that never gave a shit about you? Don’t worry though, baby, daddy still loves you.” _

You choked on your own gasp as you flung yourself out of your bed, placing a hand over your heart. It pounded against your chest in a fierce rhythm, so you clenched your eyes shut and tried to regain your breath. The nightmares were starting to get worse, and that was the most violent one you had ever had. You wondered why they wouldn’t stop, and desperately wished that they would go away. The vision of Dean lying on the floor dead was still burning a hole in your mind, and you felt desperately like you needed to make sure he was alright.

The cold chill that made your skin erupt in goosebumps was a mere second thought as you fled from your room. You feverishly passed by Dean’s room in a panicked frenzy when you realized that he wasn’t there. Your mind instantly reverted to a terrifying reasoning, and half expected your father to be standing over Dean’s dead body once you found him. The sound of your feet padding against the concrete floor seemed to echo around you, as you peeked your head in every room you walked by. Once you made it to the kitchen, you heard the unmistakable sound of Dean’s heavy breathing. 

You pushed the door open quietly, preparing yourself for the worst. A sigh of relief fell from your mouth once you caught sight of him, sitting at the table and eating an entire plate of bacon. You shook your head in disbelief, and wondered if he had seen you yet. All you wanted to do was make sure that Dean was alright, but there was no escaping the situation when he looked up and noticed you standing awkwardly in the dimly lit doorway. You didn’t say anything, but made your way to the table and sat down on the opposite side. He watched you with a weary expression, seemingly trying to understand your thoughts. 

“Nightmare?” Dean simply asked, and you were shocked at how easily he could tell. 

“Yeah.” You nodded shortly, training your eyes on the table in front of you. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

“Was it about me?” Dean continued, his voice much softer than it had been a few seconds ago. 

“Yeah.” You repeated glumly, finding the courage to look upwards and meet his gaze. “I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Y/N.” 

“That’s bullshit.” You instantly replied, growing dangerously angry at both yourself and the situation. “You said so yourself, he was aiming for me. I was a god damn idiot and went there by myself when you told me not to. I let my guard down, I led you there, and I got you shot; and if you had died, there would’ve been nobody to blame but me.” 

At your sudden and emotional outburst, a tense silence fell upon the two of you. You looked away from Dean, but could still feel the stare of his emerald eyes stabbing into you. You had done what you wanted to do, make sure he was alright and apologize, and you wanted nothing more than to burrow yourself back into your bed. Silently, you stood from the table, ready to head back to bed; but you were stopped when you felt Dean’s hand gently grab yours. You simply stood in place, and turned to look at him confusedly. 

“What was your nightmare about?” Dean suddenly asked, not letting go of the grip he had on your hand. 

“You, dead, my father standing over you with your blood on his hands.” You replied, amazed at how easily you were able to relay the horror to him. 

In an instant, Dean was out of his seat and wrapping his lean arms around you. Your entire body erupted into a shaking mess, your stomach twisting in an excited nervousness. Almost instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his back in return, your head resting on his hard but comfortable chest. He moved one hand to the back of your neck, goosebumps erupting over the sensitive skin, as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. In that moment, wrapped in his arms, listening to the steady rhythm of his beating heart, you realized something. You had fallen even more in love with Dean Winchester, if that was even possible. 

“It’s ok, sweetheart. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” Dean consoled you quietly, your body and mind both unwilling to let go of him. 

For what felt like hours, but was actually only a few minutes, you stayed coddled in Dean’s arms. The sound of his heartbeat against your ear comforted you in the fact that he was alive and breathing. You worried that you might have been hurting him, but he showed no signs of discomfort. You basked in the feel of his arms wrapped tightly around you, one hand gently rubbing your back in a soothing motion. Being with Dean was where you felt complete, and the happiest you had been in your entire life. You almost mumbled those three words once again, but the same invisible force had you hesitating. Instead, you sighed and buried yourself further into him. 

“Dean.” You mumbled his name, earning a soft hum in response that vibrated throughout your body. “Why were you eating an entire plate of bacon in the middle of the night?” 

“Cause I was hungry.” Dean responded as if it was the most normal thing in the world, chuckling as he answered. You giggled along with him, slightly pulling back and looking up to meet his eyes. “Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” 

You were beyond grateful that he asked, and nodded thankfully in response. He smiled, and before you knew it, he was bending down before you. Your eyes widened in shock and your heart skipped a beat when Dean grabbed you from underneath, lifting you into a bridal style position. It was both satisfying and terrifying; you were worried about his wound, and the fact that you were anything but a skinny woman. You watched him for a moment, seeing no signs of strain or pain on his face. He was carrying you like you were merely nothing but a feather. 

“Dean you-“ You started to protest, but he silenced you with his own voice. 

“Don’t you dare say you’re too heavy for me to carry, sweetheart.” Dean responded, a cunning smirk upon his lips. “You’re perfect.” 

A wicked blush rose to your cheeks, and in a feeble attempt to hide it, you laid your head against his chest once again. His deep chuckle rattled your body, as he made his way towards his room. You snuck a glance at his face, hoping he wouldn’t notice. It felt wonderful to be treated like that, like a princess being carried out of battle by her one true love. The way Dean’s hands felt against the soft skin of your thighs drove you crazy, and you found yourself growing even more hungry for his affections. However, all you did was hold onto him as he finally made it to his room. 

Dean gently laid you down on his bed, shutting his door behind him and sliding in next to you. You snuggled underneath the blanket, and instinctively moved closer to him. He wrapped his arm around your waist, as you rested your head comfortably on his shoulder. With a sudden confidence, you gently rested your hand on Dean’s chest, feeling the steady movements of it rising and falling. You were starting to think that maybe he did like you, as more than a friend; because for a while, the two of you had become a lot closer and more comfortable with each other than ‘friends’ should be. However, the lingering doubt in the back of your mind immediately shot you down. 

“Dean, how is your wound healing?” You asked sleepily, your eyes involuntarily fluttering shut. “Did I hurt you at all?” 

“It’s fine, sweetheart. And no, you didn’t hurt me.” Dean responded, relaxing your mind effectively. “I left my bacon on the table.” 

At his childish revelation, you burst out into an obnoxious laughter. There were tears of joy streaming down your face as Dean started to laugh along with you. Once you physically couldn’t laugh anymore, you let your eyes fall shut again and nestled closer into Dean. You didn’t get a chance to say goodnight due to sleep quickly overcoming you. However, you didn’t miss the kiss that Dean left on your forehead. You fell asleep with a small smile beaming across your face. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

When you were finally roused from your sleep the next morning, it wasn’t on your own accord. What woke you up was the timid kiss that you felt on the sensitive skin of your neck. Your eyes shot open in bewilderment as Dean brushed your hair gently to the side. It would have put you off if it wasn’t Dean. You detested unwanted touches, but he was someone that you trusted completely. This was the second time you had woken up in a compromising position with him, and you weren’t quite sure what to do. You simply let your eyes flutter shut and shivered at the sensation. You needed to tell him, and sooner rather than later. 

Before you could make an impulsive decision, he pulled away from you and sighed loudly. You stayed still, anticipating his next move, and frowned momentarily when you felt his weight shift as he pulled himself off of the bed. As he made his way to your side of the bed, you leveled your breathing and pretended that you were still sleeping. You almost broke your resolve when Dean reached down and slowly caressed your arm, before backing away. You peeked one eye open just as he was removing his shirt to change, and felt an overwhelming tingling all throughout your body. Feeling almost guilty, you shut your eyes again and waited with bated breath until you heard the door quietly shut. 

A giddy smile lit up your face as you sat up in Dean’s bed, reminiscing of his gentle and exhilarating touches. You stroked the small patch of skin on your neck where his lips were, and shivered at the feeling. With a sudden feeling of certainty, you told yourself that you wanted to tell Dean exactly how you felt. Sam was right, it was hurting you more to bury your feelings so deep. You had never been in love before. It felt wonderful, passionate, and admitting it even to yourself made you inexplicably happy. Even if he didn’t feel the same, you needed to get it off of your chest. Even if he didn’t love you, you could still imagine that he did. 

You waited for around another fifteen minutes, before making your way out of Dean’s room and towards your own. Latching the door shut behind you, you reached your dresser and picked out clothes for the day. Feeling suddenly confident, you settled on a pair of skinny jeans that you hadn’t worn in a while. You shrieked in relief when you realized they still fit, and actually made your butt look good. A timid smirk rested on your lips when an idea popped into your mind. You headed back to Dean’s room, and grabbed one of his shirts. It was a black t shirt with AC/DC’s logo on it. Slipping it on over your head, you were relieved that it fit, there was even a small amount of wiggle room. 

Once you brushed out your hair and braided it, you made your way to the library. You heard muffled voices from down the hallway that became clearer once you got closer. Turning the corner into the library, your eyes widened in surprise at the scene in front of you. Sam, Dean, and Castiel were all surrounding someone. It was hard to see the petite person in the mass of limbs, but you gasped when a flash of red hair caught your eye. The boys backed up enough for you to see Charlie, looking over at you excitedly when she heard your footsteps. 

“Charlie!” You exclaimed happily, her smile warming your heart as she rushed towards you with open arms. 

You threw your arms around her, laughing in glee as you reunited with your friend. You hadn’t seen her in a few months, and you missed her more than anything. Charlie was one of the smartest, funniest, and kind hearted people you had ever met. She instantly became one of your best friends, and someone you knew you could always depend on. A few weeks after you had met her, she confided in you about her sexuality. You felt moved that she trusted you enough to share that so soon after meeting you, and were nothing but supportive of your new friend. You even helped her get a date every now and again, and sometimes visited her when she LARP’ed. 

“I missed you so much, Y/N.” Charlie responded, tugging you closer into her. “Sorry I’ve been gone so long. I’m a shitty friend.” 

“No you’re not, Charlie!” You retaliated with a shocked tone behind your voice, pulling back to look at her with a reassuring gaze. “I missed you too.” 

“I got here a little while ago, and I was gonna sneak in your room and surprise you. Where were you?” Charlie asked, quirking an eyebrow in the air curiously. 

“Oh, uh-“ You mumbled, wracking your brain for any possible excuse. “I was um- in the bathroom probably. Taking a shower.” 

“Convincing.” She responded quietly so that only you could hear, with a teasing wink following. 

You gritted your teeth together and attempted to halt the blush forming on your face. Stepping away from Charlie, you turned to see Sam watching you with raised eyebrows, and Cas staring in confusion. You avoided their ominous stares, letting your own fall on Dean. He was leaning against one of the tables, with his hands resting firmly on it behind him. His emerald eyes sparkled under the fluorescent lighting as they locked onto his t shirt that you wore. You gulped nervously when Dean smirked at the sight of you wearing his shirt. That was the reaction you had hoped for, but it still made you nervous nonetheless. 

“Your hair is dry.” Castiel suddenly said, your face scrunching up in confusion as you turned to him. ”You were taking a shower?” 

“Ever heard of a blow dryer, Cas?” You responded with a shrug of your shoulders, hoping that the conversation wouldn’t be dragged out any longer. 

“Anyway...” Charlie clearly has picked up on your discomfort, and your shot her a grateful look when she cut the conversation off. “I stopped by the post office in town before I came. You got a letter or something, Y/N.” 

The redhead then procured a square envelope from her jacket pocket, holding it out to you. You thanked her, taking the envelope and glancing at the return address in curiosity. The name that stared back at you had your blood boiling, and you debated on shredding the envelope just so you didn’t have to look at her name. Taylor Johnston. She had been one of the main sources of your depression back in the day, she was the biggest bully in your high school, and she picked on you the most. Taylor was a stereotypical high school cheerleader, with a football player on her arm, dark black hair, and skinny as a twig. 

She bullied you for your weight, for your style, and pretty much everything else. She was the one that laughed in your face when you glanced at the tryout sheet for the cheerleading squad. You knew it was merely a dream to be a cheerleader, but you were probably more flexible than any of the other girls on the squad. Taylor’s name stared back at you, and you desperately wanted to get rid of it, but you also wanted to know what it was. You also wondered how she tracked you down to send you the letter, but decided you’d figure it out later. 

Tearing open the top of the envelope, you pulled out what looked to be an invitation. A thorough look at it proved that you were right. It was an invitation to your high school reunion. You flipped it over to the back, where there was a handwritten note scrawled over the cardstock. It read ‘Hope to see you there! Taylor xx.’ You scoffed in disbelief, wondering if she had sent you the invitation as a joke. There was no way you were going, and you tossed the invitation to the table beside you without so much as a second glance. 

“What was it?” Charlie asked, and you suddenly realized that everyone had been watching you intently. 

“An invitation to my high school reunion.” You replied, waving your hand as if to push the thought away. “The biggest bitch in the whole school invited me. What a joke. All she did was bully me all four years, does she think she’s funny? Whatever, I’m not going anyway.” 

“Um, Y/N.” Sam suddenly interrupted, your mind panicking at his solemn tone. “I found a case, a really bad one, and it’s actually in your hometown.” 

”Go without me, then.” You responded, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. “I’m not going back there.” 

“Look, I know you don’t want to go back there and I understand why.” Sam continued, your teeth gritting together in annoyance. “But we could go to this reunion, and maybe find out what’s going on. You know them all, they’ll talk to you.” 

“Sam, I don’t think you realize just what those people did to me.” You continued, shaking your head in disappointment and anguish. “They’re not gonna give a shit what I have to say. And I couldn’t care less about any of them.” 

“Y/N-“ 

“God damn it, Sam! She said she doesn’t want to go!” Dean’s sudden outburst caught everyone in the room off guard, flinching slightly at the vibrations of his gruff voice. 

An uncomfortable silence fell over everyone, even Castiel looked speechless as he stood watching the scene in front of him unfold. Charlie had moved closer to you, Sam was watching you apologetically, and Dean had a small scowl set upon his face. Dean was right, you didn’t want to go, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t need to go. You were a hunter, and it was a case. There was most likely people in your hometown dying, and though you swore you’d never go back, your hunting instincts told you to go. Letting people die because of your own petulances didn’t sit right with you, and you made a quick and hasty decision. 

“As much as I don’t want to, we’ll go.” You broke the silence, feeling Dean’s eyes land on you. “It’s our job, right? I’ll go to this stupid reunion, but you’re all coming with me.” 

“Of course we will, sweetheart.” Dean responded, his features softening as you smiled back at him in thanks. 

“I apologize, Y/N.” Castiel cut into the conversation, shooting you an apologetic look. “I can’t tag along, my brothers are seemingly more annoying than usual.”

“It’s ok, Cas.” You responded with a smile, grateful for his concern and friendship. “Thank you, anyway.” 

“I’m so coming with.” Charlie burst in, a giddy smile on her face. She reached out and tugged on your arm, pulling you out of the room. “We’ll be back, boys! We’re going shopping!” 

-

Charlie and you had driven about half an hour from the bunker to the nearest mall. She had insisted on you buying something ‘jaw dropping’ as she put it, for your reunion. You politely accepted, but were internally screaming at the thought. You had always hated shopping, mostly because of the looks you always received, and the fact that you could never find anything that looked good on you. Once you reached the mall, Charlie excitedly dragged you inside as you two made your way into different stores. 

You moved from store to store, nothing catching your eye, and workers giving you judgmental glares. After almost an hour, you felt like giving up, before Charlie pointed out a store that reinvigorated your hope. It was a store that specialized in plus size clothing, and one glance inside had your interest peaked. The clothes were all beautiful, and you were excited to find your size in every single article of clothing that you picked up. You were gleefully looking through the racks, a polite worker offering you and Charlie a smile and her assistance. 

“We could use your help, actually.” Charlie requested politely. “My friend is going to her high school reunion, and she needs something hot to wear.” 

“No problem! Lucky for you, I have some ideas.” The worker, whose name tag read Lucy, offered up with a smile. 

Lucy led you towards a rack full of evening dresses. You hesitated, as you weren’t one to wear dresses. However, once your eyes landed on a soft red fabric, your mind was made up. You pulled out the dress, gasping in astonishment. Lucy nodded approvingly at your choice, and Charlie’s jaw practically dropped to the floor. 

“You have to try that on, Y/N!” Charlie exclaimed excitedly, pushing you towards the dressing room. 

The redhead sat on one of the chairs in front of the dressing rooms, waiting impatiently. Lucy called through the door and told you to check in with her if you needed anything, and you gave your thanks in response. You shimmied out of your clothes, placing Dean’s shirt neatly on the bench, and started to put on the dress. You gasped aloud when it slipped right on with ease. Turning to look in the mirror, you grinned at yourself in utter happiness. It fit like a glove, and you had to admit, you felt beautiful for the first time in your life. 

Whipping the dressing room door open, Charlie looked up and choked on her own spit at the sight of you. She squealed in delight, taking your hand and spinning you in circles to take in every angle. Lucy walked by at that moment, smiling at the expression of pure happiness on your face. You couldn’t wait to wear it to your reunion, hoping to knock some people off of their feet, and one person in particular. 

“You are so buying that.” Charlie said firmly, your head bobbing up and down in a gleeful agreement. 

“You’re gonna knock them dead, Y/N.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None

Your head lulled against the cold glass of the window, and your brain was working overtime to think of ways that things could go wrong. The four of you were currently on your way to your hometown. The reunion was the next day, and you were more than nervous for what it would entail. Sam and Dean were sat in their respective places in the front seat of the Impala, with Charlie and you in the back. You had chosen to sit behind Sam, merely for the fact that you could watch Dean affectionately from afar from that angle. You weren’t sure what it was, but watching Dean drive was intoxicating in itself. 

A blush would rise to your cheeks whenever Charlie would catch you staring. She would just look at you with a smirk every time, going back to reading her book in complete harmony. You averted your gaze, and decided to glance at the passing cars and trees outside of the window. Before you had left, Sam had updated you on the case. Many people had been reported missing, only for all of them to turn up with a missing heart and head, and a strange symbol carved into their chest. Your first thought was that it might’ve been a deranged serial killer, but Sam insisted on his belief that it was a monster. You trusted his instincts and knowledge, and were going to treat it like any other case. 

Before you knew it, Sam had fallen asleep, with Charlie not far behind. Once they were both snoring simultaneously, you scooted up gently to rest your arms against the cool leather, placing your head on top of them. Dean looked over at you with a smile before reverting his attention back to the road in front of him. You watched the way his hands gripped tightly onto the steering wheel in front of him, and longed to know what it would feel like to have those same hands trailing along your skin. Your eyes widened at your sudden and sinful thoughts, wiggling uncomfortably on the leather seat. Dean cocked an eyebrow at you curiously, but you only ignored him, hoping he wouldn’t press on the situation. 

“You should pop my mixtape in.” You suggested with a smile. 

Dean reached over to the compartment in front of Sam, gently opening it and grabbing the tape. He shut it swiftly, and pushed the cassette into the slot with minimal effort. Freddie Mercury’s voice filled the air, causing a sense of calmness to wash over you. You stayed in that position for quite some time, listening to the tape that Dean had made you, the uncomfortable position not bothering you one bit. Charlie stirred a little bit beside you, but stayed asleep. Sam was out like a rock, you had always been amazed at the fact that he could sleep through anything. You’d bet he wouldn’t even wake up if the car was on fire. 

“So what’s up with this Taylor woman?” Dean asked, your instant reaction to the name was to roll your eyes. 

“Like I said before, she was the biggest bully in high school.” You reminisced with a sour expression. “Her and her boyfriend were the ‘It’ couple. She picked on everyone, but for some reason she had a fascination with bullying me. She always made pig noises at me, sometimes trip me when I walked by her. She was on the cheerleading squad, and she laughed and then spit in my face when she caught me looking at the tryout sheet.” 

“Well this Taylor chick seems like a real bitch.” Dean responded, glancing at you with a scowl on his face. “You wanted to be a cheerleader?” 

“That’s what you pick out of everything I said?” You asked incredulously, rolling your eyes but smiling nonetheless. “I wanted to try gymnastics, but cheerleading was the closest thing we had.” 

Dean hummed in response and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel rhythmically. You were dreading seeing Taylor again, but part of you was curious as to where and how she ended up. She very well might had got married and had children, and the thought struck you deep. That was what you had always wanted, and the fact that someone so hateful and cruel could have it made you feel dismal. You found yourself wondering once again what your life would have been like if you hadn’t starting hunting. However, the more you thought, the more you realized that you couldn’t imagine a future without Dean in it. 

“What did you get to wear to this thing, Y/N?” Dean suddenly asked, jolting you from deep inside your own mind. He was smirking, and your heart nearly burst from your chest. 

“I’m not telling you.” You responded teasingly, swatting his arm playfully in response. “You’re just gonna have to wait and see.” 

“Can’t wait, sweetheart.” 

-

Later that day, the Impala pulled up to a motel that you instantly recognized. It was nestled on the outskirts of your hometown, and your father often went to stay there, much to your delight. Whenever he got sick of you, you’d hear him calling hookers to meet up with at the motel. You stared up at it with a slight fear, half expecting your father to come barreling out of one of the rooms. You pushed your resolve aside, and moved to step out of car. Sam and Dean headed towards the office, while you and Charlie stayed behind and unloaded your bags from the trunk. 

“How does it feel to be back?” Charlie asked you timidly, watching intently for your reaction. 

“I don’t know.” You replied honestly, looking towards her with a shrug of your shoulders. “I never thought I’d come back here.“ 

“I’m very proud of you.” Charlie responded, a shy smile lighting up her face. “It‘s taking a lot of bravery for you to do this.” 

You simply nodded in response, clutching your bag tightly on your shoulder. Tapping your foot against the cold pavement, you anxiously anticipated the boys return. Your head shot up towards them when you heard the obnoxious ringing of the bell above the office door. Dean carried one key in his hand, Sam with another, waving them in your line of vision. They stopped in front of you, and you found your muscles straining to be able to look them in the eye. 

“We got two rooms.” Sam said, holding out one of the keys in your direction. 

Charlie immediately snatched it from his hand, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “Perfect! Boys in one room, girls in the other.” 

“You guys gonna have a sleepover?” Dean retorted, winking at you teasingly. 

“What do you think girls do at sleepovers, Winchester?” You asked him with a small smirk, slinging your bag higher on your shoulder once it started to slip. “Have naked pillow fights?” 

“I would not be opposed to that.” Charlie butted in, holding a hand high in the air. You giggled, shaking your head with a smile. “What? You’re a beautiful woman, I’m a lesbian. Two plus two equals four.” 

“Charlie.” You mumbled her name, blushing, and shaking your head once again at her. 

“Oh come on, Y/N.” Charlie countered, tossing her hands in the air in defeat. “You already broke my heart with the fact that you don’t like girls. Let me have this moment.” 

You turned away from the redhead to see Sam laughing quietly to himself as he watched the interaction. Charlie had an adorable pout on her face, and Dean looked at you with a strange expression that made your legs tremble. You were somewhat disappointed at the fact that you wouldn’t be able to slip into Dean’s bed in the middle of the night, but figured it was a rather good thing. You weren’t sure what had come over you in the past few days, but you suddenly found yourself longing for his touch in more ways than one. 

You did your best to ignore the extensive fluttering in your stomach, and followed Charlie towards the door of the motel room. Sam entered the one right next to yours, and Dean lingered momentarily on the doorway to throw one last wink your way. You bit your lip in a feeble attempt to hide the smile forming on your face, and followed the redhead into the shabby room. She closed the door shut behind you, and you tossed your bag onto the bed, taking a hesitant seat on the thick beige blanket. Charlie raised an eyebrow at you, making you realize that you had actually been smiling the entire time. 

“What’s that smile for, hmm?” Charlie asked teasingly, placing her pointer finger on her chin and making a mock thinking face. “Perhaps a certain green eyed Winchester?” 

“Maybe.” You responded quietly, knowing that you’d never be able to hide it from her. It was apparently clear as day. “Do you think he likes me?” 

“Y/N.” Charlie spoke your name slowly, taking a seat on the bed opposite of you. She rested her hands on her knees, leaning forward slightly. “Have you seen the way he looks at you? Just now, I thought you guys were gonna rip each other’s clothes off in the middle of the parking lot.” 

“I- Charlie..” You responded with a small stutter, willing to confess your feelings to one of your best friends. “I’m in love with Dean.” 

“And so the blind begin to see.” Charlie responded with a small smirk, reaching forward and tapping gingerly on your forehead. “Tell him. You need to, and you deserve to be happy. You know that, right?” 

With a shrug of your shoulders, you moved to sit further back on the bed, crossing your legs underneath you. There was a slight urge in you to knock on their door and just blurt it out, but it seemed like a dumb and meaningless idea. Maybe you could tell Dean once you got back home? You felt like you were always making excuses of why you couldn’t tell him, but knew it was rooted in your insecurities. With a deep sigh, you settled on telling him whenever the time felt right. You’d know when it was time, and you only hoped he wouldn’t turn you away. 

“Let’s just get some sleep, Charlie. It’s late.” You decided on breaking the conversation, reaching in your bag to find more comfortable clothes to sleep in. 

“You sure you don’t want to go sleep in Dean’s bed?” Charlie asked teasingly, your head whipping towards her in shock. She grinned at you deviously. “Come on, I knew that’s where you were. You were wearing his shirt too.” 

“Oh- well..” You mumbled, once again wracking your brain for an excuse, but you settled on the truth. “I’ve been having really bad nightmares, and even just lying next to him makes them go away.” 

“Aww.” Charlie goaded, holding her hands over her mouth. You rolled her eyes with a smile on your face. “Tell him, or I’ll tell him for you.” 

“I will, Charlie.” 

“You better.” 

-

The next morning, the four of you headed to a quaint diner in downtown for some breakfast. You were on alert the entire time, waiting for someone to recognize you and attempt to start a conversation. It felt like a breath of fresh air when you were able to leave the diner and head back to the motel with no interruptions. Your reunion was that night at 6pm, and you had been on edge about it since you woke up that morning. It was undoubtedly going to be a frustrating evening, but you hoped you could make of it what you could. You did have a case to take care of, after all. 

Back at the motel, you attempted to busy yourself for the rest of the free time that you had until your impending doom. You started by scrolling through your phone, then pulled out a book you had packed away and read the entire thing. You even watched a movie with Charlie, itching the entire time for a moment alone with Dean. Your red headed friend made sure you didn’t, as she wanted it to be ‘even more special’ when you stepped out in your new dress later that day. A blush rose to your cheeks when she had told you that, you had felt like a bride on her wedding day being scolded for wanting to see her future husband. 

Eventually, when 4pm rolled around, Charlie went over to the boys room to tell them to start getting ready and to stay out of your room. She came barreling back in, ushering you to get into the shower. You complied without a word, knowing it was better to let her do her thing than argue. Once you had finished your quick but thorough shower, you wrapped a white towel around yourself and stepped back into the room, a cold shiver coursing down your spine. Charlie motioned for you to put your dress on, as she stepped around you to take a shower herself. 

You made sure the door was locked, and took your time in drying yourself off. Once all droplets of water were wiped away, you slipped on your new lace underwear and strapless bra. Slipping on your new dress, you smiled giddily once it was completely settled on your frame. It was a red off-the-shoulder dress, with a wrap around frill that fell just above your knees (https://pin.it/bp7kjslwnonvbg.) You twirled in the mirror, pleasantly surprised at how well it formed to your body. It clung tightly to your hips, accentuating them perfectly. You were still gawking at yourself when Charlie opened the door some time later, completely dressed in a black and white, sleeveless, bodycon dress. She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at you with wide eyes and a gleeful smile. 

“You look amazing!” Charlie squealed, causing you to smile widely in thanks. “You’re gonna be the hottest person there.” 

“Thank you, Char.” You responded, holding your arms out in her direction, motioning up and down. “But look at you! I love that dress. You look gorgeous.” 

“Oh stop it.” Charlie responded with a giggle, mockingly twirling a strand of hair around her finger, making you laugh. “Ok, let’s get makeup done now. You can take this mirror, I’ll take the bathroom.” 

You each moved to your respective spots, Charlie in the bathroom mirror and you at the mirror in front of the dresser. As you both worked on your makeup for the night, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of happiness and belonging. You felt like a teenage girl, getting ready with her best friend, both excited and nervous to see her crush. Your hair was dry by the time you were done, and you brushed it out thoroughly, deciding to leave it naturally hanging over your shoulders. Your makeup was light, as you didn’t want to take away from the magnificent dress; some foundation and concealer, with a bright beige eyeshadow and mascara that complimented your eye color. 

It was 5:45 by the time you were completely ready. You had pulled on simple black heels with a strap that fit on your ankles. Charlie had opted for black flats, and held a small bag with her that she offered to store your cell phone in. As you were both checking each other over, a loud knock sounded on the door. Your eyes widened, and Charlie looked at you in anticipation. You took a deep breath and followed her over the door. She stepped out first, and you mustered every ounce of courage and confidence that you had to step out after her. 

Sam was wearing a black t shirt and a tan jacket, simple but still acceptable for the kind of event you were attending. Your eyes shifted over to Dean, and your whole body shook at the hungry look in his eyes. He was staring at you with his mouth falling open, his eyes shifting up and down your frame slowly and gradually. As he was doing so, you took your time to ogle him. Dean was wearing dark jeans, a white button up dress shirt with one button undone that made your mouth water, and a black leather jacket on top. It felt as if the world had stopped, as the both of you stared at each other in amazement and adoration. 

“Wow.” Dean finally broke the silence, forming one small but meaningful word. “You look- wow. You look gorgeous, sweetheart.” 

“Thanks.” You shyly responded, not missing the way Sam and Charlie smiled at the two of you. “You look very handsome.” 

“Well I have no doubt that we’ll be the hottest people there, Y/N.” Dean responded with a proud smirk, turning to glance at his brother and friend standing right next to him. “Sorry, guys.” 

Charlie and Sam both shrugged, as if to say ‘It’s fine.’ There was a cool breeze whipping against the exposed skin of your legs and shoulders, and a small shiver ran down your spine. Although, you weren’t sure if it was actually from the cold or the look that Dean had been giving you since you stepped out of the motel room. You suddenly began to feel nerves creeping back up on you, and inhaled a deep breath of reassurance. You looked forward and lifted your head as you saw Dean reach out a hand to you. You smiled widely, not hesitating in the least to reach out and grasp his outstretched hand. 

“Ready to blow their minds, sweetheart?” 

“I think she’s ready to blow something...” 

“Charlie!”


End file.
